Hide and Seek
by cjh4ever
Summary: An alien gets into the Hub and uses the Rift. Tosh, Owen, Ianto and Gwen get caught in the backwash leaving Jack to find them and bring them home. But will they want to come? Concluding chapter now up.
1. The Start

_This is a short establishing chapter. The next and subsequent chapters will be much, much longer. But now, something is happening in the Hub ..._

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* * *

****Hide and Seek**

The Start

"Get down!" yelled Owen, pushing Toshiko under her desk. He loosed off a shot then another before ducking down to join her. He quickly slammed another magazine into his Glock.

"I'm almost there. Just another couple of minutes," she said, typing furiously. She risked a peek at the screen on the desk above and an energy blast tore a chunk out of the wall behind her.

"Damn it! Will you stay down!" yelled Owen pulling her back. He got up on one knee and fired blindly in the direction of the blast before crouching down again. "Why the hell isn't Jack waking up?" he hissed between gritted teeth.

"I don't know."

The sound of gunfire echoed around the Hub and Owen risked a look up at the hothouse. He caught a brief glimpse of Gwen's head before she took cover below the tables to avoid the blasts that shattered the last of the glass walls. He hoped she had not been caught by the falling shards. Movement from the left caught Owen's attention and he looked over, gun coming up to fire if he caught sight of so much as a shadow of the intruder. His finger was tightening on the trigger when he realised it was Ianto.

"Ianto's up again," he reported to Toshiko who was still working her keyboard. "That head wound looks bad." Blood was caked down one side of Ianto's face but he was conscious and mobile and his Glock was in his hand; now it was three to one.

"_Owen, can you hear me?" _

"Gwen! I thought comms were down. Are you okay?"

"_So far. Anything on Jack?"_

"Nope, he's still in the pool." Jack had gone down first, blasted by the alien intruder at the start of the current stand-off. "But Ianto's back with us. Your five o'clock."

"_I see him. Ianto, you hear me?" _

Gwen waited but there was no response. She wriggled on her stomach over the glass littering the floor, trying to keep the piece of sacking underneath her, until she was right up against the wall and looking down on the Welshman. He was half sitting on the steps leading to the interrogation room and cautiously looking round the Hub for sight of the intruder. From the way he kept rubbing at his eyes and shaking his head, she guessed he was still not recovered from the blast that had winged him at the same time as it had killed Jack. She tried the comms again.

"_Ianto, do you hear me?" _

"Gwen? Where are you?" Ianto had seen Toshiko and Owen cowering in the work area and had assumed Gwen was down. Like Jack, who was floating face down in the murky water in front of him.

"_Hothouse. Any movement from Jack?" _

"No but I'm sure he'll be back soon." Ianto put as much conviction in his voice as he could, he had to believe that Jack would come back and save them.

"_Sure he will." _

"Until he does, what's the plan?" interjected Owen. "Toshiko needs another few minutes. Either of you got a bead on it yet?"

"_My best guess, it's near the water tower,"_ came from Gwen who had a bird's eye view of the underground base.

"The Rift manipulator," put in Toshiko. "It's after the manipulator, wants to open the Rift!" She put her head above the level of the desk to look that way and another blast sounded. It would have taken off her head if she had not immediately flung herself to the floor.

Shots rang out from all three of the remaining Torchwood operatives, targeted on the origin of the blast. They riddled the area with bullets which ricocheted off the metalwork but were rewarded with a shimmering of the air and a spray of deep blue ichor arcing slowly and rather beautifully to splatter against the water tower. Buoyed with this success, they continued to fire on the invisible alien that had invaded the base and terrorised them for the past quarter of an hour. Blasts of pure energy forced them back behind their flimsy shelters and they waited for a moment before venturing to look in that direction again.

Owen, who was closest, saw the difference first. "The manipulator, it's opened the access hatch!" he yelled, standing up and charging forward.

Gwen was racing down the metal stairway, gun drawn and a hoarse cry of defiance coming from her mouth as she sprinted across the lower level.

Ianto was on his feet, still shaky but not prepared to let the alien succeed in whatever mad plan it had in mind. He ran forward.

Toshiko picked up her Glock to follow Owen and in a brief second saw a bright white light pulse out from the water tower and envelop him. Next it got Ianto and then Gwen before it travelled far enough to engulf her.

* * *

_And so the scene is set. What has happened to Owen, Toshiko, Ianto and Gwen? Is Jack going to be all right? Read the next chapter to find out ..._


	2. Toshiko

_Jack begins the search for his team ..._

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* * *

****Hide and Seek**

Toshiko

The lecture hall was half full of lolling students taking notes, drinking from bottles of water – she hoped it was water – and whispering. Of the forty three men and women before her, Professor Toshiko Sato knew that thirty two had no hope of understanding her lecture on positronics and were there merely to get an attendance credit. Of the remaining eleven, the ones who were seriously interested, only two could comprehend the nuances of her proposals.

It was disheartening when looked at that way but she lectured solely because it was part of her contract. Six lectures each academic year, two a term, was the price of retaining her stipend and the Chair in Experimental Electrical Mechanics in the Computer Sciences Department at Keble College, Oxford. She also had to tutor at least one student a year and this year, remarkably, she had two. They were sitting out there now, Craig Reed and Jon Thompson, listening intently and assiduously taking notes. At the end of the lecture – just another ten minutes, she thought – they would pester her with questions and want to walk with her back to her rooms. They were nerdy and irritating and she wished they would leave her alone.

"… and so, the synapses of the cortices, when bombarded with protons form a matrix. Link three of these matrices together with subdurnal matter, as I outlined in my last lecture, and we shall have made a start." She looked at the clock on the wall opposite, above the tiered seats with their slouching occupants. "But now it's time to end. Good day."

Switching off the microphone, she had her papers in a folder under her arm and was halfway to the exit before the students had realised she had finished. A scrabbling from behind warned her that Craig and Jon were trying to catch her so she broke into a jogging run and was out into the corridor before them. Heading left, she pushed through the few people and opened the door to her hiding place. Closing the door behind her, she sat down on the chair in the darkened room and waited. Her pursuers would never look for her in here.

The sound of someone clearing his throat made her start in surprise and she dropped her papers on the floor in her hurry to turn round. "Who's there? Come out, whoever you are!"

"Hello there." A tall man with a wide toothy grin and long coat emerged from the shadows.

"Who are you?" she demanded again.

"Captain Jack Harkness." He stopped, his grin still in place but with a softer, more indulgent look in his eyes.

"Are you a student? Students aren't allowed in here," she blustered.

"Nor are professors." Jack looked round at the projectors and sound equipment. "Unless they're hiding." He cocked his head to one side, regarding her steadily.

"What if I am? It's no business of yours! And you still haven't told me who you are!" She was on her feet now; even at her full five foot seven she still had to look up at him.

"Yes I did. Jack Harkness is my name. And I've come to find you, Toshiko Sato." His gaze was penetrating now, boring into her soul.

"What …? Find me? You're talking nonsense. I'm leaving and you'd better not follow me!" She bent and retrieved her folder of papers. "Don't try and follow me," she repeated. She walked smartly to the door and opened it, refusing to look back at the impertinent American.

"You need four matrices," drifted out of the room after her as she hastened away.

In the projection room, Jack stood in thought, wondering how long it would be before she sought him out. Because she would, he was sure of that.

-ooOoo-

Toshiko's rooms were on the first floor of the oldest part of the College and generous by anyone's standards, but especially so for a single woman. The sitting room was large with two tall mullioned windows looking out onto a quiet quadrangle before which was placed her solid Victorian desk. Papers, a PC with three monitors and an assortment of books, discs and memory sticks covered the top of the desk, stacked up in what seemed to be abandon but was actually complete order to her. The rest of the room was dominated by a handsome fireplace and two sofas facing one another on either side of it. A gateleg table stood against the back wall and the tray and dirty dishes, yet to be cleared away by her scout, were evidence of her last meal. A large built-in bookcase to the side of the table had shelves crammed with tomes of all shapes and sizes and a laptop placed awry on top of the lower cupboard next to a decanter and glasses. A heavy, carved oak door led off the room into the slightly smaller bedroom and en suite bathroom.

At that moment, Toshiko was standing staring out of one of the sitting room windows into the dark night beyond. She had stood there, motionless, for several minutes, a habit when she was lost in thought. Her lectures were punctuated with such pauses which the students had grown used to, even going so far as to place bets on the number and duration of each one. To the professor, however, they were vital moments when ideas, equations and surmises coalesced into a theory. The man sitting on the right hand sofa was used to these moments, indeed welcomed them; it should mean that they were nearer achieving their goal.

"Dear God, he's right." Toshiko turned and faced her colleague, her face stricken and for once showing all her fifty two years. "Why didn't I see it? How could I have missed it?"

"More to the point," commented Rupak Moitra, "how did this man know?" His voice was cultured and calm, a reflection of his focussed and methodical working methods which were so at odds with the mercurial and eccentric professor. The fact he accepted her pronouncement without query showed his faith in her abilities. "Do you think the Americans are working on this?"

"We'd have heard. Worthington has said nothing about this man." She crossed the room and sat on the left hand sofa, running her hand through her already disordered hair. "But that's immaterial. Why did I miss it?"

"You didn't miss it, Toshiko. We were working on a theory of three matrices which, when we'd run trials and more simulations, would have led to us to revise it up to four. We were just a little behind this American. What was his name again?"

She grimaced. "John? James? Something like that. I can't remember!" She got up again and started pacing, her stockinged feet tracing a path from window to table and back again.

"You need to try. We need to check him out and, if he's legitimate, find him and discover what he knows and what he wants. We could bring him into the lab and add his knowledge to ours. Now, think, what was his name?"

It took thirty minutes of patient interrogation but finally Rupak had prised out as much information as he was ever going to get. Professor Sato was renowned for her absent-mindedness, especially for names; it was said that she couldn't even remember her own parents' first names. Rupak used his laptop to Google 'James Harper' and found a Sheffield United footballer, a mid-nineteenth century publisher, a funeral director in Bromley, an actor and a professional golfer. When he got to a chartered surveyor he gave up. Either the James Harper they wanted was not in the public domain or, more likely, Toshiko had got the name wrong.

"Well? Got anything?" asked the professor as she poured sherry for them both.

"No," he said with a sigh. "There's no entry for the James Harper we want. Maybe we're trying the wrong name."

"Or he gave me an alias. Wouldn't put it past the CIA." She handed him his drink and sat down beside him, pulling her legs up underneath her.

Rupak sipped his drink and let the reference to the CIA pass without comment. Toshiko had worked on joint Anglo-American projects involving both countries' security services and abhorred the surrounding secrecy. As scientists, both she and Rupak were used to sharing knowledge and findings, once they were supported by decent evidence at least. "I think it's more likely you don't remember it correctly."

"Then try some other combinations," she said airily.

"I have."

They sat in silence for five minutes, drinking and looking across the room and out of the unshuttered windows. Toshiko considered her next move. She could ignore the stranger – maybe he had made a lucky guess – and carry on with her own work. She'd just need to work quicker; there could be others working on the same theories and she didn't want to be pipped at the post. Sharing discoveries was all well and good but she wanted recognition as much as the next person. She had not won her A M Turing Award by being second. And she was close to a breakthrough, she was sure of that.

Artificial intelligence had been knocking around as a theory for decades but no one, so far, had made an artificial brain that could duplicate an organic, human one. Positronics were the way to go, she was confident, and the subdurnal matter Rupak had created was an ideal conduit. They just had to get a prototype - a working, thinking, prototype - in place before they could publish and reap the rewards. The papers they'd published so far, on minor discoveries, had been well received which showed they were on the right lines but they'd held back on the big breakthroughs fearing someone would steal the idea. And now this damned American had appeared on the scene.

"Thank you for the drink, Toshiko," said Rupak, packing up his laptop, "and your company."

"Going so soon?" She glanced at the ornate carriage clock on the mantelpiece: 11.06.

"I'm lecturing in Norwich tomorrow and have to make an early start. I'll come and find you when I get back. Around five, I should think." He smiled down at her and gave a mock-bow. "Good night."

"Good night, Rupak."

-ooOoo-

It was almost midnight and the College was quiet. Faint music drifted out of individual rooms as students studied into the night and one group of half a dozen partygoers were loud as they crossed the quadrangle before disappearing up a staircase in the opposite corner. Toshiko Sato was at her desk, trying to discover the identity of the mysterious stranger. She had tried all variations of the name she thought she remembered and had turned up nothing.

"This won't do," she said out loud and pushed back her chair.

Searching under the table, she found her shoes where she had kicked them off while eating supper and stuffed her feet into them. Wearing a disreputable and baggy cardigan over her shirt and trousers she checked she had her keys before leaving the room. She walked down the staircase and through various corridors until she came to the projection room. Hesitating with a hand on the door knob she wondered if this was a wise move. The corridor, this entire floor of the building, was deserted and only dimly lit. The projection room itself was in complete darkness. What if he was dangerous? Looking around, she saw a fire extinguisher on the wall and picked it up, nearly dropping it before she adjusted to its unexpected weight. Armed with this dubious protection, she opened the door and stood looking in.

"You came back." The American-accented voice was calm and somehow soothing. "I knew you would."

"Well I didn't!" she retorted, hiding her nervousness as best she could. She reached for the light switch and turned it on, blinking in the sudden brilliance. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the same man she had seen that morning standing in almost the same place. She took a pace into the room, hefting the extinguisher in both hands.

"Are you expecting a fire?" he asked with a chuckle.

She looked down at it then at his amused expression and chuckled herself. "I couldn't find anything else. If you promise not to attack me, I'll put it down."

"I promise I won't attack you, Toshiko Sato." His voice was solemn and serious but with an underlying hint of amusement.

"Good, I don't think I'd have been able to hold this much longer. Why do they make them so heavy?" She put the extinguisher down gratefully, making a metallic clatter on the concrete floor.

Jack ignored the question and watched as Toshiko stood facing him, taking him in like a specimen under a slide. She was older than the woman he knew but she wore her years well even though she was dressed abysmally. She looked what she was, an archetypal professor more concerned with her research than her appearance or the rest of her life. In all probability, she didn't even acknowledge there was a life outside her research.

"I've forgotten your name."

"Captain Jack Harkness."

"No wonder I couldn't find you," she sighed, reaching for the chair and pulling it towards her. "I thought it was James Harper!"

"That's interesting," he said slowly. "I've only used that name once before."

"I knew it! You're a spy, CIA I suppose. Well you won't get anything out of me." She sat down and folded her arms across her chest staring at him defiantly. "You can torture me all you want but I won't tell you a sausage!"

He laughed then, the joyous sound filling the room. "Oh, Tosh, you are a caution. I couldn't hurt you if I wanted to, and I don't. You see, I'm not really here."

Toshiko narrowed her eyes and regarded him more closely. The traits that made her an excellent scientist – curiosity and single-mindedness chief amongst them – also made her fearless in the face of something new. She had to find out how things worked and while that didn't normally apply to her fellow human beings, she was convinced that if she approached this stranger in the same way as any other problem she would solve the riddle he embodied. And part of that riddle was why he had called her 'Tosh', only her brother called her that.

"How are you not here?"

Jack stepped forward, closer to her chair, stopping a pace in front of her. "I'm a hologram."

Raising her arm to shoulder level she brought it round towards him, halting just before it touched his coat to look up at him questioningly. When he nodded, she let the arm continue its progress and gasped when it travelled through his body. Ripples appeared in the image and slowly ceased as they reached his head and toes. Her arm fell back and she stared at him - at the image of him, she corrected - and began to piece together the evidence she had gathered.

"Stable holograms are impossible unless the source of the signal is close by. So, where are you really?" She stood and walked all round him, searching into the further corners of the room as she did so. A talking, reacting life-size hologram was also beyond current science but she ignored that for the present.

"In another dimension. Another reality. In my reality you work for me." He turned his head as Toshiko completed her circuit and appeared around his right side.

"You're mad."

He chuckled. "It's been said before, probably will be said again, but … what I've told you is still true."

The disciplines of evidence-based research stood Toshiko in good stead. She didn't believe him for one minute but his assertions also didn't faze her, her mind was focussed on the problem he posed. The two problems, she corrected. "I'll get back to the hologram later," she said, sitting down again. "How did you know about the four matrices? Who do you work for?"

Jack smiled and sat cross-legged on the floor, his coat flowing out around him. "That's my Tosh, never distracted from the real issue. Where I come from, and that's not where I know you, artificial intelligence is commonplace. Androids and thinking computers are the backbone of the Empire."

"Empire? What empire?"

"The Great Human Empire." He waved a hand. "But that's not important. Positronic brains are two a penny and everyone knows how they work, every child of eight and nine is taught it as the basis of more advanced study."

"More advanced?" she spluttered.

"Oh yeah. Temporal mechanics are the cutting edge now." He smiled at her reaction. "Don't worry about it. Just take it from me, what you're doing now is child's play."

She forced down her indignation and let her analytical brain mull over the information he had provided. He was, supposedly, from another dimension in which she worked for him; this dimension had holographic projectors more powerful than anything on the drawing board in this dimension; and her work, her ground-breaking and highly advanced work, was taught to children where he came from.

"This is preposterous. You are preposterous." She stood up and pushed the chair back where it had come from. "When you're willing to talk sense, maybe I'll listen."

"Tosh, don't go. Please!"

The urgency and passion in his voice halted her on her way to the door and she turned back to face him. He was also standing, his hands out, palms up in a beseeching gesture. It was his eyes, bright blue eyes, that held her attention. There was pain in their depths, a personal sorrow so profound that it hurt her to witness it.

"I can't lose you, Tosh," he said quietly. "You and the others, you're my family. I need you back."

"This better be good." She again reached for the chair.

-ooOoo-

"It's getting late," said Jack from his place on the floor. "You'd better go and get some sleep."

"I suppose." Sleep and leisure time meant nothing to Toshiko when she was engaged in solving a problem. She often worked through the night, more than one occasionally, and caught up on sleep later. "Can we run over this one more time? So I know I have it straight?"

"Of course." He checked his wrist strap controls. "I only have another twenty minutes before the projectors turn off."

Toshiko shuffled the scrappy bits of paper she had scrounged from the waste bin and looked at her notes. The story she had been told was out of this world, a fantastic tale of aliens and secret bases - in Cardiff of all places – and seemed impossible. And yet … and yet she wanted to believe this strange, holographic man.

"You work for Torchwood which is based in Cardiff. It protects the city and the UK from aliens that come through a Rift in time and space." She looked at him for confirmation and when he nodded, she went on. "An alien got into your base and attacked you and your team. It used the … that thing that opens the Rift."

"Rift manipulator," supplied Jack.

"Right, Rift manipulator to return to its home and sucked in the four members of your team. An Owen Harper, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper and me." She smiled when she said the last. "Me, an alien hunter!"

"As I said, you're responsible for all the alien tech."

Toshiko's eyes glittered with excitement. She liked the idea of alien technology at her disposal, especially given some of the things Jack said it could do. "And that tech includes the holographic projector you're using right now. How does it diffract the light? And -"

"It's going to stop working in twelve minutes, Tosh! I'll tell you more later."

"Oh, right." She turned back to the notes. "You weren't taken into the Rift because you were dead." She shook her head. "That's the weakest part of the story, Jack, I'm finding that really hard to swallow."

"You think I'd make up something like that?" He raised his eyebrows in ironic query.

"Maybe not. Anyway, when you … revived, you started searching for your colleagues. Eventually you discovered they'd been taken into an alternate reality where they were living out their lives. Using this alien technology of yours, you were able to establish they were unharmed and oblivious of their previous lives." She looked up from the notes. "That's tricky too. I have memories of the whole of my life, nothing's missing."

"That's because you exist in this reality as well as mine. You slotted into your lives as they're being lived here." He looked at his watch again. "Just accept it for now, please."

"Not sure I can, not completely, but …" she shrugged. "One thing I can vouch for is that I've never heard of Torchwood before now."

"And yet you do remember." Jack saw her surprise.

"No I don't! Believe me, I'd know if I'd come face to face with aliens! And besides, I've never even been to Cardiff."

"James Harper, you thought that was my name. It was the name I used when we were stuck in 1941." He watched her closely. "It was just you and me and I've never told anyone else that was the name I used. So how did you know?" He stood up; it was almost time to leave.

"I … I don't know. Coincidence?" She did not sound convincing even to herself. And what did he mean by 'stuck in 1941'?

"Never believed in them myself. Time's running out. I have to go."

"You'll come back?" she asked quickly, also standing. "I'll look into all these other things, see what I can do." She waved the notes around.

"I'll be back. Midnight tonight." Jack smiled at her warmly. "Thanks for believing, Tosh." He pressed some buttons on his wrist strap and faded away.

She stood for several minutes and then walked forward and waved an arm through the space where he had been. He was gone. "Trouble is, Jack, I'm not 100% sure I do."

Back in her room, Toshiko sat at her desk and typed up her scrappy notes into a spreadsheet of so called facts and a list of things to do, adding comments and queries where appropriate. The tale really was fantastic and she wondered why she at least half-believed the stranger. She was eccentric but not gullible and not prone to being taken in by smooth-talking men no matter how handsome. At 2.10 she went to bed, setting the alarm for 5.00; there was a lot to be done tomorrow and she needed to talk to Rupak before he left Oxford. Drifting off to sleep, her last conscious thought was that perhaps she trusted Jack because his story was true.

A strident beeping woke her from a deep sleep and she scrambled to turn off the alarm flopping back on the bed when the noise ceased. A moment later she raced from the bed to her desk and started scribbling, her hand racing over the paper as she tried to remember the strange dream. There was a woman with short blonde hair and a transparent … thing with tentacles for hair and spiky hands. The images faded and gradually the pen slowed and then stopped. They may mean nothing, the result of cheese for supper, but they might not. The transparent woman, she somehow knew it was female, had looked like an alien and was not unfamiliar; she had had the dream before. Was she remembering her previous life, the other one? Until she could check with Jack, she planned to record any such dreams as best she could.

Shivering, she got up and walked slowly back to the bedroom lost in thought. Showered and dressed, an hour later she was on her way to Rupak's rooms, on another staircase of another quadrangle, to share his breakfast. She had a lot to tell him.

-ooOoo-

"Please, Toshiko, promise me."

Rupak was holding her hands in his as they stood in his small, neat room. He rarely touched her – their relationship was strictly professional – but he was determined to make her agree. She had appeared in his rooms and told him a story of holographic men, alternate realities and aliens and seemed, at least in part, to believe it. Rupak did not; he was a scientist and required proof. His difficulty was that Toshiko was also a scientist, a good one, and she was never taken in by unsupported claims and outlandish tales. If he could, he'd have cancelled his trip to Norwich but it was a long-standing commitment and he felt morally obliged to attend. Now he was concerned that Toshiko might blurt out her story to someone else, someone less understanding.

"I promise, Rupak, I won't tell anyone what I've told you." She smiled and squeezed his hands, enjoying his cool touch. Being this close to him, she could also smell his aftershave, a refreshing sandalwood, which she particularly liked. "Besides, I'll be too busy."

He sighed and dropped her hands. "And that's another thing. Be very careful, you don't know what that thing is that he wants you to build."

"I'll be a good girl, don't worry so." She patted his cheek. "Now, I have to get started."

"And I have to get my train." He picked up his briefcase and checked his notes were inside. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Toshiko. Call me if anything else … strange happens."

"You worry too much. Good luck with the lecture."

They walked down the stairs and separated, him to the station and her into the science block. Toshiko walked briskly along corridors and down stairs until she reached her personal laboratory, a large basement room with four work benches arranged in two rows; a mass of equipment covered each bench. Heading for her inner office, a small room which smelt of lavender from the bowl on the desk, she sat down, logged on to her PC and checked her notes once more. The devices looked fairly simple to build and while she didn't understand how they worked – assuming they would – the components were fairly standard. Unfortunately she did not have all of them in the lab so she started searching the College database for those of her colleagues that did.

Seven hours later, the work was nearing completion.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I just don't understand this." Jon Thompson stood with the graphics board with one hand and stared helplessly at Toshiko.

"You don't need to understand. Just build it as I said."

"But, Professor, what's it for? How does it relate to positronics?"

Toshiko stopped her own work and looked across to Jon. It was a pity she'd had to involve him and his nerdy friend, Craig, but she couldn't build this by herself. Not in the time available anyway. "It's an experiment, one I need to try quickly. If you'd rather not help, I'm sure Mr Reed and I'll be able to manage." They wouldn't but she knew Jon was competitive and hated to feel of less value than his friend.

"Just do it, Jon," added Craig from his place across the room. "The Prof has her reasons." He had no idea what the devices were either – the box of electronics he was building had nothing to do with artificial intelligence – but was willing to go along with her in order to get into her good books.

"Thank you, Mr Reed. Well, Mr Thompson?"

"Okay," he said with a sigh.

The three bent to their work. They had been in the lab since nine that morning with only one short break for a sandwich lunch. The rest of the time had been devoted to building the devices required by Jack. His instructions had been specific and detailed and by calling in a few of the favours she had earned during her long tenure at the College she'd got together the required components. It was exciting and she wanted to tell everyone what she was doing, however, Rupak had advised against it - had actually ordered her not to say a word - and she trusted his judgement. Toshiko wondered what the two students were thinking and started as the image of a pendant, a golf club and a man bent on murder flashed into her mind. She quickly jotted it down; another thing to ask Jack about tonight.

"I think this is finished," announced Craig, straightening up from the bench. "How do we test it?"

"Not necessary," Toshiko assured him, stopping her programming to go to his bench. "Let me see." She examined the rectangular box minutely, humming softly to herself, then smiled brilliantly. "Excellent, Mr Reed, excellent. This is just what I wanted. You can go now." Taking the box she went back to her bench.

Craig shot a startled glance at Jon then said, "But, Prof, don't you need me for anything else?"

"No. Not unless Mr Thompson needs a hand."

"No, I can manage." He physically hunched over the bench attempting to hide the work from his friend. "I'll find you when I'm done, Craig. Won't be much longer." He actually left an hour and a quarter later.

Alone in the lab, Toshiko took the two devices they had built and checked them against the notes. They would do. Turning back to her PC, she wrote more of the computer program that would activate them and put them into synch with Jack's projectors back in the other reality. The silence in the room was complete but for the tapping of the computer keys.

Lost in her work, she was oblivious when the door of the lab opened and Rupak Moitra entered. He stood watching her and smiled. The small frown between her eyebrows and the intense concentration was so typical of her. They had been working together for eleven years, eleven productive years, and he believed he was the person who knew her best. He had cared for her - and protected her from the administrative demands of the College authorities - for the past nine years. And he had loved her for seven years while knowing she was completely unaware of his feelings. Rupak had not wanted to complicate their relationship by mentioning how he felt and was content to stay close to her as a valued colleague. He put down his briefcase and took off his jacket, replacing it with a lab coat. Unlike Toshiko, he did not like getting his clothes dirty. When he turned round, she was looking at him with a bright smile.

"Look at these, Rupak. Aren't they marvellous?" She held up the two boxy devices.

He crossed the room to her bench and drew out a stool to sit beside her. "They'll be marvellous if they work," he said, tempering her enthusiasm. "How did you get these done so fast?"

She waved a hand airily and looked back at her PC, not willing to meet his gaze. "Got the students to do it. Might as well make use of them."

"Oh, Toshiko," he said with a long-suffering sigh, "I told you not to say anything."

"I didn't." She smiled at him. "You may not believe it, Rupak, but I do listen to you. And I appreciate your concern for me." They shared a moment of silence, a brief connection about something other than work. "I told them they'd get a credit it they helped with a small experiment."

"They're bright boys, they might put two and two together."

"And come up with a holographic alien hunter from another reality? They're not that bright!"

He laughed, a contained laugh that was heard all too rarely. "I can't fault your logic there. I don't think I believe it. Now, tell me what you're working on now."

-ooOoo-

At 11.55, Toshiko and Rupak were in the projection room setting up the equipment. The devices were wired to the projectors and then connected to Toshiko's laptop which contained the program she had written following Jack's instructions from the night before. She'd tried to follow what he said to the letter but some of it seemed … iffy so she'd made a few adjustments along the way which she was just beginning to regret. Perhaps now it wouldn't work as it was supposed to.

"Relax, Toshiko," said Rupak coming to join her by the small table they'd brought into the room. "Take deep breaths."

"What if I've done it wrong?"

"No one could have done better. Now, remember what I said? We need to be convinced that this man is not dangerous, to you or anyone else, before we let him through this … portal we've created."

"You are so practical, Rupak. What would I have done without you these past years?"

Impulsively she hugged him, her arms just meeting round his substantial middle, and he automatically put his arms round her slight frame. Neither would normally have dreamt of doing anything so physical but their shared involvement in this project had removed some of the layers of propriety and restraint that had grown up between them.

"Ahem. Sorry to interrupt. Want me to leave?" The two scientists broke apart sheepishly, not looking at one another.

"Jack!" Toshiko smiled at him – at the image of him, she corrected – and tried to forget how pleasant it was to hold, and be held by, another person. "This is Rupak Moitra, my highly esteemed colleague. He knows everything."

"A rather wide-reaching claim, I'm afraid, and not one I'd make for myself. And you are Captain Jack Harkness." He had recovered his composure and surveyed the man standing before him, thinking Toshiko's description of him as 'dashing' was an understatement.

"That's right. Good to meet you, Rupak." Jack smiled, surprised by this unexpected turn of events. Toshiko with a man? This really was an alternate reality! "I see you have everything ready, shall we -"

"Before we do anything, Captain," interrupted on Rupak, his voice as calm as ever, "Toshiko has a few questions for you."

"Fire away, Tosh." Jack crossed his arms and stood facing her.

"Oh dear, now you're cross with me. But Rupak's insisting I do this and, well, frankly I need him too much to upset him." She looked from one to the other of the men with a small smile for both. "Plus he's here and can stop me whereas you're only a hologram."

"I understand. And Rupak's right, you should be cautious."

"Good." She reached behind her and got a small notebook, flipping it open. "This first question is from Rupak. We've searched the records and the only Captain Jack Harkness died back in 1941. Why isn't there one of you in this reality like there's one of me?"

"Because I've not been born yet."

"That's no answer," commented Rupak. "The records say you died in 1941. Yet you say Toshiko and the rest of the people you're seeking are alive now and working for you."

"It's a very long story and a very complicated one. But, simply, I was born in the 51st century and travelled back to 19th century Earth. Where I got stuck, in time and with Torchwood, and have been living there ever since. In this reality I don't do that, don't know why."

Rupak stared at him. "The 19th century?"

"Yes. I lived though half of it, all of the 20th and this one so far." Jack smiled at him then looked at Toshiko. "You didn't tell him?"

She pulled a face. "There was so much else to take in …"

"Tell me what?" demanded Rupak, turning to her. "Toshiko?"

"Jack can't die. He's immortal."

A pause. "I see."

"Oh, don't look like that! Everything else is strange enough, why can't he be immortal as well?"

"When you put it like that, I suppose I can't argue." His tone was ironic but she decided to take the words at face value.

"Good. Next question. I had some dreams I don't understand and wondered if they're anything to do with my other life, the one with you. There was a blonde woman and a tall, transparent, floaty … thing with tentacles for hair and spiky fingers. Ring any bells?"

"Yes. That was Mary, an Arcateenian fugitive, who took on human form, also in the 19th century." Jack smiled at Rupak then went on. "She survived by ripping the hearts from people and eating them, the hearts not the people, until we found her transport. She befriended you, Tosh, to get it back. Used a pendant that gave you the power to read other people's minds."

"Ah! What about a man who wanted to murder his wife?"

"There was one. You overheard him and stopped him. Bashed him over the head with a golf club. Four iron, I think." Jack was grinning now.

"That's right! That's just what I remember. Rupak, we can believe him."

Rupak was not convinced. "I'm not sure."

Jack spoke up. "Rupak, I am not going to harm you or Tosh. Or anyone else, come to that. I merely want to come through to that reality so I can talk to my team."

"You want them to go back with you."

"Yes, I do. They're my family." He smiled at Toshiko. "Plus, they don't belong here."

Rupak looked down at his feet, thinking about how to say what was worrying him without giving too much away. "And if they don't want to go?"

"I think they will. I know them. When they understand the consequences, they'll come willingly." Jack paused then added. "Don't worry, Rupak, I only want to take my Tosh back. The Toshiko who belongs here will remain."

Jack had realised that this tubby man was in love with Toshiko and did not want to lose her. He judged that Toshiko was oblivious of the man's feelings, which was nicely ironic given her feelings for Owen in his world. In the growing silence, Jack had time to really look at Rupak. He was part-Indian, about the same age as this Toshiko and meticulously neat in his lab coat covering dark trousers and white shirt with a spotted bow tie at his neck. They would make a good couple, decided Jack; Rupak would look after her.

"Rupak?" Toshiko put a hand on his arm. "I believe him."

He smiled at her, burying his disappointment. She did not understand that his concern was about being left behind if she went with Jack. He loved her and his life would be empty without her. She meant so much to him but even after a decade she did not feel the same way. And yet Jack, who did not know him and was not even a real person, not yet anyway, understood his – Rupak's - feelings. He looked at the image, staring into the blue eyes. Could he be trusted? Was this the right thing to do? Toshiko had made her decision and he had followed her lead for a long time. Her instincts had not let her down - yet.

"In that case, let's continue," said Rupak finally.

"Before we do," said Toshiko, biting her lip, "I have a confession to make. When I was writing the program, I did what you said but …"

"Changed some of it?" suggested Jack with a smile. "Don't worry, I'm used to that brilliant mind of yours and the way it works."

"Oh good," she said with relief. "Come on, Rupak."

Ten minutes later, with a flash of white light the portal sprang to life and Jack stepped through into the room. He grinned at them both before helping them to deactivate the portal; it dissipated slowly. It would not be needed again until he had his team together. When the equipment had been turned off and disconnected he went to Toshiko and gave her a big hug.

"Thanks, Tosh. And you, Rupak."

"What now, Jack? What happens now?" Toshiko was delighted with their success and unaccountably excited, almost giddy. The cool and measured scientist of mature years was gone, for the moment at least.

"First, we collect all this equipment and store it somewhere safe."

"My rooms. It'll go in the bedroom."

"It would be better in your office," objected Rupak, "where it can be locked away and the scouts won't see it."

Toshiko smiled at him. "You're right, of course you're right. My office it is. And then?" she asked Jack.

"I go to Cardiff. Once I've made contact with the others, I'll need you – and Rupak, if you like – to join me there. And bring this equipment with you. Hopefully in just a few days." He grinned at them both.

* * *

_In the next chapter, Jack meets the Owen Harper of this reality. What will he be like?_


	3. Owen

_And now it's time to find out what Owen in this reality is like ..._

* * *

**Hide and Seek**

Owen

Surgery was finally coming to an end for which Doctor Owen Harper was eternally thankful. A vomiting virus had brought out more people than usual and he had had to force himself to listen as each patient described the same symptoms while secretly wondering why they had been foolish enough to come out of their homes and infect other people. One of the receptionists and the practice nurse were out with the virus at the moment and in all likelihood they had caught it from one of the patients.

His last patient, however, had an entirely different problem. Ramona Spraggs had HIV, caught from a blood transfusion when she'd had a routine operation on her hand a year earlier. Even though such things weren't supposed to happen, the health service was not immune to mistakes. At fifty nine, the woman was finding it hard to come to terms with her condition – which she associated with homosexuals, or 'queers' as she called them – and was not managing her medications correctly, often failing to take them at all. So far she had been lucky, but Owen spelt out yet again the need for her to be vigilant and take ALL the pills he prescribed every day.

"But there are so many, Doctor," said Ramona, weeping silently and tearing a paper tissue to pieces in her hands. "I do try."

"I know, Mrs Spraggs, but you have to take them every day. What happened this time?"

She looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes. "It was my friends' Silver Wedding. I went to stay for the weekend."

"And?"

"Celia would have asked me about all the pills!" she said with sudden vehemence. "And I can't tell her! I can't tell her I have what those … those degenerates have."

Owen took a deep breath, willing himself not to react to her prejudices. "Have you told anyone, Mrs Spraggs? Is there someone you trust?"

"No. I'm a widow, Dr Harper. I've only got a sister left and she's in Australia, has been these past twenty years. I've never made friends, not ones I'd tell about … this."

"There's no need to be ashamed, really there isn't. You got this disease through no fault of your own." Owen reached out and placed a hand over hers which were still tearing at the tissue. "I really think you need to speak to someone, a counsellor."

"No!" She drew herself up, pulling her hands away. "I am not sharing my business with a stranger. I can deal with this myself. But I know you mean well and I am grateful."

The consultation ended a few minutes later with Mrs Spraggs still adamant she wouldn't talk to anyone. Owen typed up the notes, wondering what more he could do to help her. He had the niggling feeling that he had missed something but put it down to overwork and tiredness. After logging off from the PC, he tidied the room and picked up his attaché case, filled with reports on new medications and the latest issues of the medical journals. In the reception area, he met Mary Hughes, the practice manager, always the last to leave. After a brief word, he left the building and headed for his car.

It was Thursday and his night to look after the kids. Henry, at fifteen, and Maisie, twelve, didn't need much supervision but four year old Josh craved attention. And Owen loved giving it to him, delighting in hearing tales of playschool and the boy's ever-changing interests. He was looking forward to an hour spent chatting to his youngest son before bed while Katie, his wife of twenty years, went to her weekly aerobics class.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the sight of a man leaning against his Mercedes. Owen stopped abruptly some fifty metres away and stared at the figure. He was tall, taller than Owen, and wearing a long military-style coat. His arms were folded and his head bowed as he kicked at the asphalt with the toe of one booted foot. Was he a mugger? A car-jacker? But why wait in plain sight if he was? Could he be a patient, or a relative of one? All these thoughts rushed through Owen's mind as he stood watching the man. He might have stayed immobile for longer but at that moment the man looked up, right at the doctor, and smiled.

"Hello there."

"Who are you? Move away from my car, please." Owen took a pace forward but warily. This man looked as if he could handle himself and one heard so many stories of health professionals being injured in unprovoked attacks.

"I'm Captain Jack Harkness and I need to talk to you." He let his arms fall to his side and took a pace away from the car.

"Surgery hours are over. If you need to see me, make an appointment." Owen tried hard to be brave but he was still unsure of his ground. The faces of Katie and the children flashed through his mind: would he ever see them again? His mobile was in the attaché case but he could run back to the surgery if this stranger made a move on him.

"It's not a medical matter, it's personal."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Please, move away." He waved a hand, the one holding the case, and decided he could use that as a weapon; it had reinforced metal corners and was quite tough.

Relief flooded through him as the stranger moved further from the car. Owen walked forward keeping his gaze fixed on the other man and his briefcase held in front of him like a shield. At the car, he fumbled in his pocket for the keys and pressed the button to release the locks. The clunk and brief flash of the hazard lights was reassuring and Owen opened the door, thrusting the attaché case inside before sliding into the seat, the smell of the leather upholstery familiar. He'd moved quickly but not quickly enough. The stranger was at the door, holding it open.

"Llandaff Bridge, two am."

"What?" demanded Owen, rattled by the close proximity of the man and the enigmatic message. "Get away! Now!"

Jack Harkness moved back and allowed the door to close. He stood watching Owen drive away, the tyres squealing as the car sped off. This was going to be difficult.

-ooOoo-

The drive south, out of Cardiff to Sully, calmed the rattled doctor. He kept an eye on his rearview mirror and did not see anyone following him, well, not as far as he could tell. It was harder than he'd imagined to drive and watch the road behind him at the same time. By the time Owen pulled into the drive in front of his imposing five bedroom detached home overlooking the Bristol Channel, the soothing strains of the Hebrides Overture dying away, he was once more his normal easy-going self. Whoever the man was back in the car park, he was nothing to worry about. Owen was worrying unnecessarily.

Waiting for the garage door to open, Owen looked across at the house. It was mock-Georgian, built of a cream stone and had a pleasing symmetry. Slim columns on either side of the double front doors created a porch in the middle of the façade and there were two elegantly proportioned windows on either side. On the upper floor, the windows followed the same layout with a French window in the centre opening onto a narrow balcony created by the roof of the porch. The garage door opened and Owen drove in. It was a triple garage that held his Mercedes, Katie's Espace and still left room for the families' bikes, Maisie's surf boards and the wet suits. Checking the garage door had locked securely, he opened the connecting door to the house and entered the kitchen from the utility room.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Josh flung himself at Owen, confident of his welcome. "You're late. Dinner's almost ready and Mummy says she's going to give yours to Bozo if you're not here in time."

"Well, I am here," laughed Owen, picking up his youngest. Josh smelt of lemon soap and baby shampoo and was soft and warm in his pyjamas and dressing gown. "Bozo will have to have his own dinner, not mine."

"That's good, 'cause he's getting fat."

"Traffic bad?" asked Katie from where she was laying the table.

"Not especially. Was a few minutes late getting away; Ramona Spraggs was my last patient." He didn't need to say any more; Katie, a paediatrician at Cardiff General, had heard a lot about Mrs Spraggs over the past few months. "Down, J-man," he said to Josh, "I need to change." He bent to pat Bozo the golden labrador who had come up to greet him. "Hey, boy."

"Take Daddy's case into the study, Josh," suggested Katie placing the last fork on the table, "and then go and wash your hands. Dinner'll be on the table in five minutes."

"Yes, Mummy." The boy took the attaché case – which he held in both hands in front of him as Owen had himself not so long ago – and walked off to the study at the front of the house.

"Come here," urged Owen, pulling Katie to him as she walked past on her way to the stove. "We haven't said hello properly yet."

They kissed, bodies pressed against one another, in a familiar and yet still arousing way. The years had not diminished their love, just deepened and strengthened it. Owen still marvelled that this beautiful woman had agreed to be his wife. She was just a centimetre or two shorter than him and blonde, her hair still long at his request, and had kept her figure despite three children. At the moment she was in a calf-length flowing skirt and a V-necked sweater that accentuated her breasts.

"Do you have to?" came from the doorway into the hall where their eldest son was standing. He was blond like his mother but had Owen's wiry build.

"Actually, yes," laughed Katie, remaining in her husband's hold for a minute or two before gently extricating herself. "Go get changed, Owen. Henry, stop picking at that!" She batted away his hand from the salad bowl she'd placed on the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room.

Moving through the house, Owen admired the clean lines and understated elegance of his home. Katie had created the look and ensured it remained as impressive as when they'd moved in seven years ago. Without her the mess three kids created would have spilt out into every room of the house instead of being contained in their bedrooms. The galleried landing was Owen's special pride and he took a moment to stroke a hand over a carving on the light oak balustrade outside the master suite.

"Leave it alone, Dad," said Maisie, coming out of her room. "You'll mark it and Mum will be after you."

"I know. Want to go to the beach tomorrow morning?" Maisie was an accomplished surfer and practiced on the beach a mile or so away when the waves were suitable, which they should be early Friday morning.

"Okay. Have to be up at five," she warned, now at the head of the stairs. She always knew the times of the tides.

"That's fine, long as you get to bed early." It was a school day tomorrow and she needed to get a solid eight hours' sleep beforehand.

"No probs." She went down the stairs, an athletic girl with dark hair kept short for all her sports: as well as surfing, she also played tennis and badminton and was a regular in the school's hockey team.

Changing into jeans and shirt with a thin sweater over the top, Owen surveyed himself in the mirror. He was still in reasonable shape for forty five – three kids kept him active – and he ate as healthily as he could, the whole family did. He entered the kitchen/diner, or family room, just as Katie started serving the pasta. Dinner was lively with lots of talk as the children related details of their day and the discussion turned to a hundred and one other topics. Katie and Owen both relished this chance to sit down as a family and the children had grown up knowing nothing else. At half past six, Katie went off to her aerobics and Henry cleared up. The children had a rota and usually did their chores without too much prompting.

Owen opened one of the bi-fold doors which, when all four were pushed back, allowed unrestricted access to the deck and the garden beyond which was mainly down to grass. Josh needed the space to run around and play – and for his climbing frame and trampoline – but when he was older Owen was looking forward to putting in a water feature and some raised beds. He had come to gardening late in life and at present was restricted to the large plot behind the garage where he had a greenhouse and various beds. It was his habit to check the tomatoes in the greenhouse each evening after dinner and he went there now accompanied by Josh who chattered away as Owen watered. When the greenhouse was secured, they walked back to the house, hand in hand, and settled on the couch in the family room to watch some TV and spend some more time together. Henry was with them for a while before heading upstairs to his room and, like Maisie who was already up there, getting on with a pile of homework.

-ooOoo-

Since Owen had transferred callouts to an out-of-hours service it was unusual for the telephone to ring in the early hours of the morning so he was concerned when he was woken at 1.20. Reaching out, he narrowly avoided knocking the alarm clock off the table and got to the phone at the fourth ring. Beside him Katie stirred and turned onto her back to peer at him blearily.

"Hello?"

"_Is that Doctor Harper, of the Overbridge Practice, Llandaff?"_ asked a male voice in a marked Welsh accent.

"Yes, it is. Who's calling?" He eased himself up and rested against the headboard grateful that Katie had turned on her bedside lamp,

"_Sergeant Davidson, Cardiff Police."_

"Police?" Owen was alarmed, and looked anxiously at his wife. He was estranged from his mother but Katie had elderly parents; had something happened to them? "What's happened?"

"Police?" mouthed Katie also sitting up, a worried crease between her eyes.

"_We've found a body, sir. In the river. Suicide, we reckon." _

"I see." He didn't really but it seemed the appropriate thing to say. "But … what has that to do with me? I'm not a police doctor." With his hand over the receiver, he whispered to Katie. "There's a body in the river."

"_We know that, sir. Thing is, the lady left a note and it's addressed to you." _

"To me!" Owen forgot he was trying to be quiet and his words were loud in the quiet room. "I don't understand," he added, lowering his voice.

"_Nor do we, sir. Trouble is, the lady has no other identification and she hasn't signed the note so we don't know who she is. I wonder, sir, would you be able to come down and take a look at her?" _

"Now?" Owen waved away Katie who was trying to attract his attention.

"_If you don't mind, sir."_ Davidson's voice was level and conciliatory, well used to having to persuade people to help him. _"We can send a car if you like."_

"That won't be necessary." He didn't want his neighbours to see a police car outside his house. "Where are you?"

"_Junction of Bridge Street and Cardiff Road, you can't miss us. How long might you be, sir?" _

"Twenty minutes?"

"_I'll look out for you. See you shortly." _

Owen put down the receiver and looked at Katie who still had an anxious look on her face. "Seems someone's drowned themselves in the river, a woman, and she's left a note addressed to me."

"You? But who is she?" Katie was relieved the call had not been about her parents, left behind in Surrey when she'd moved to Cardiff, and was now curious. "Did they say?"

"They don't know. Want me to see if I know her." He pushed back the covers and got out of bed. "I could do without this," he grumbled. "I was going out with Maisie in the morning."

"What time?"

"Five. Suppose I may be back." He disappeared into the en suite and used the toilet and washed his hands and face. Coming back out, he started getting dressed.

"Call if you can't make it, I'll tell her." Maisie was never allowed to surf alone. "Take your warm jacket, it'll be cold."

Owen found the jacket in the wardrobe and put it over his arm. "Go back to sleep, love." He kissed Katie and left the room, moving through the rest of the house as quietly as he could. Only Bozo heard him, padding out from the kitchen into the hall in silent enquiry and only going back when reassured that all was well.

It wasn't until he was in the car, driving through the dark night, that Owen remembered something the policeman had said: the note had not been signed. That meant they had opened and read it even though it had been addressed to him. For some inexplicable reason this angered him and he put his foot down, determined to get there, look at the body and leave as soon as possible. It was 1.55 when he arrived at the scene, four police cars were parked on one side of the road with their lights flashing and an ambulance was on the other. Leaving the Mercedes in what he hoped would be a safe place, he walked forward to where crime scene tape cordoned off the end of the road which led to the bridge.

"No one allowed through," said an officious constable, barring Owen's way.

"I'm Dr Harper, here to see Sergeant Davidson."

"Just a minute." The constable went over to a tall, fair-haired officer and they both walked back to Owen.

"Dr Harper, thanks for coming. I'm Sergeant Davison." He held up the tape and Owen ducked under it. "Body's this way."

"What exactly happened?" asked Owen, falling into step with Davidson. "You didn't say much."

"Don't know much," admitted the police officer. "Got a 999 call saying someone was floating in the water. When the officers got here, they found the woman and managed to get her to the bank. The only thing on her was a note addressed to you."

"Wouldn't it be wet?" They were approaching the bridge – which had been closed to traffic – and the river where a police boat was tied to a mooring post. "I mean, if it's been in the water …"

"She put it in a plastic bag so it was only a bit damp. Means she thought about it, was serious." Davidson led them off the road and across some grass to where a group of people in protective clothing was gathered. "Just a quick look, sir, from here if you don't mind. We're trying not to contaminate the scene, just in case."

"Fine." Owen stood, about two metres from the shrouded body and waited until one of the group around it lifted the blue plastic cover to reveal the face. It was one Owen knew even from this distance and he closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I know her, she's … she was a patient of mine."

Andy Davidson nodded, glad to have the identification out of the way. "Let's move away and I'll take some details." He put a kindly hand on the doctor's shoulder; the man was obviously affected by the scene.

Owen half-turned then stopped. "One thing. Tell your people to be careful, she had HIV."

"Right! Wait a sec." Andy hurried down to the police doctor to give him this information so that the necessary precautions to be taken.

As Owen waited for him to return, he took a deep breath and looked up at the night sky then at the bridge above him. He gasped when he saw a man in a long coat standing there, leaning on the railings looking down at him. It was the same man that had been in the car park. A nearby clock struck the hour – two o'clock – and Owen realised that this was Llandaff Bridge.

-ooOoo-

The police questions seemed to go on for hours but actually only took thirty minutes. Owen told them what he knew of Ramona Spraggs: a widow with no children living in Beale Close near Danescourt Station. He remembered she had a sister living in Australia but had no details of how to contact her.

"We'll get those from her house I expect," said Andy Davidson, notebook in hand. "I'll need a formal statement from you in due course. Could you come into the station tomorrow, sorry, later today?"

"I have surgery and calls to make. I should be free .. early afternoon? If that would be all right."

"That'll be fine. I'll make sure someone's expecting you." Davidson made a note of the time. "One final thing, how did she get the HIV? Doesn't look the type."

"A blood transfusion, a bad batch. It very rare but it happens. She was unlucky." Owen stirred in his seat; the two men were sitting in his Mercedes. "You mentioned a note. Can I see it? It was addressed to me."

"I know, sir." Andy hesitated then continued, "I don't see why not. Might make a bit more sense to you, talks about 'her shame'." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. "Here. Leave it the bag, of course."

Owen took the bag which contained an envelope and an A5 sheet of blue writing paper, the same as some he remembered Katie using years ago before email and texts became the standard method of communication. Basildon Bond, he thought, that was the name of it. The writing covered one side of the paper only. He read it slowly then handed it back with a sigh of regret.

"She thought of HIV as a gay disease and was ashamed about what her friends – not that she had many, so she said – would say. I was trying to get her to see a counsellor, to talk over the implications of her condition, but I couldn't persuade her. I should have tried harder."

Andy Davidson watched the doctor and felt sorry for him; it was never easy seeing people one knew and had tried to help take their own lives. He also knew that there was nothing he could say that would help. "Well, I think that's all, thank you, sir. I'll let you get back to your bed." He opened the car door and eased out, his equipment making him bulky.

"You're sure it was a suicide?" pressed Owen, thinking of the man on the bridge.

"Sure as we can be at this stage. Good night, sir."

"Good night." Owen started the engine and reversed back a little until he could turn round and head home. It was 2.30 and he should be able to get a couple of hours sleep before going out with Maisie. In the headlights he caught a glimpse of the coated figure.

In the event Owen's sleep was troubled, with visions of a dead body, frozen in a drawer, which alarmingly came to life. He woke sweating and looked at the alarm: 4.50. He decided to get up and was almost out of the door, wearing only shorts and a T-shirt, when Katie woke.

"Owen, who was it?" she asked.

"Ramona Spraggs. I'll tell you about it later." He quickly kissed her and was gone. He stopped outside Maisie's room and heard her moving about inside so tapped softly. "Maisie, I'm going downstairs."

Footsteps padded across the floor and the door opened. "I'm ready." She was dressed the same as him, their usual wear for going under wet suits.

Half an hour later they were kitted up and the surf boards were on the roof of the Mercedes. With the flask of coffee Maisie had made, they headed off to the beach taking Bozo with them. The sun was gilding the sea as they clambered over the dunes with their boards, Bozo running before them. Three local surfers were already in the water, which looked ideal, and it wasn't long before Owen and Maisie joined them. The exercise was exhilarating and Owen was able to forget everything in the thrill of finding a wave and riding it as far as he could. He was not a brilliant surfer but he enjoyed the sport and was pleased he could share in Maisie's passion.

After forty minutes or so, Owen needed a break and walked up the beach to where Bozo guarded their possessions. Once again Owen was halted by the sight of the man in the coat. He was sitting with Bozo's head on his knee, stroking the dog's head. Owen grew angry. Who the hell was this man? Why was he following him? What did he want? He strode the last few metres and put down his board.

"Who are you and what are you doing?"

Jack smiled up at him. "Just stroking your dog. He's great."

"I know that. Now who are you? What do you want with me?" Owen could not help noticing that Bozo had not moved. He was looking up at the man – Harkness, that was his name – with adoration and his tail was thumping on the sand.

"I just want to talk to you."

"Why should I talk to -" He broke off and turned round suddenly. Why was Maisie shouting?

"Dad! Dad, come quick!" The girl was at the water's edge and as soon as she had her father's attention, she went back into the shallows and helped one of the lads drag his friend up onto the beach.

Owen raced down the beach, unaware of Jack and Bozo just behind him. "What is it, love?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside the boy.

"They collided. Celyn's still out there." Her voice was strained and she made to return to the water.

"No," said Jack, ripping off his coat and boots, "help your dad. You," he said to the other rescuer, "where did you last see him?" The pair of them raced into the sea after the lost surfer.

Time passed very quickly. Owen worked on the boy, Gary, sending Maisie to the car for the medical bag he always kept there and the blankets which protected the seats from Bozo. The boy was unconscious, a deep welt on his temple, and his left arm and ankle were broken. There was also tenderness around the ribs consistent with two surf boards meeting at speed. He treated the injuries, worried when the boy did not regain consciousness. Maisie helped him as much as she could, keeping an anxious eye on the sea where the stranger and Alun, the third of the lads, were searching for Celyn. Eventually Owen had done all he could for Gary; the boy needed to get to hospital. He cursed when he had to send Maisie back to the car to retrieve a mobile; he should have reminded her to get it earlier.

While she was climbing the dunes once more, he noticed Alun coming out of the water and went to help. "How is he?" he asked looking down at Celyn, floating on his back. Owen was pleased to see the boy's eyes open although he could not focus.

"Dr Harper, your friend! He went under and I couldn't get to him." Alun was distraught, keeping Celyn afloat but looking at the sea where Jack was floating face down on the water.

Owen followed his gaze surprised when the usual flash of adrenaline did not kick in and send him rushing to try and save a life. It was the first time that had happened to him. But he put it to one side. "You get Celyn up by Gary. Keep him warm. Maisie's calling an ambulance. I'll see what I can do here."

He dived into the sea and swam out to Jack's body where he got a good grip of the braces and turned him over, kicking out for the beach. The tide was helping him and soon Owen had the man close to the shore. Alun rushed to help and helped pull Jack from the water, making to take him up to join the others.

"No, leave him here." Owen knew the man was dead and yet … There was something about him and being dead that meant he didn't have to worry. "Bozo, here boy." The dog bounded up. Owen grabbed his collar and made him lie down next to Jack. "Stay, Bozo, stay. Right, Alun, how's Celyn?"

"Umm, he's muttering. Shouldn't we …" he looked down at Jack who was lying white and lifeless.

"Bozo will keep him warm. I've done everything else I can. Come on."

Owen took Alun's arm and propelled him up the beach. He found the two other boys were both conscious but disorientated. Celyn had a broken arm and cuts to his feet and both were cold even with their suits and the blankets. With the ambulance expected any minute, he left the boys in the care of Maisie and Alun and went back to Jack and draped the greatcoat over him. The man was dead but Owen didn't feel anxious which concerned him. This was the second dead body he had seen that day: was he getting callous and uncaring? He didn't think so, something was telling him this was different. Sirens alerted him to the arrival of the ambulance and he looked over at the road. Beside him there was sudden gasp and his forearm was gripped by Jack. Bozo yelped once but stayed in place.

"Fuck!" Owen reared back and grabbed Jack's shoulders to keep him still. "Are you all right?" he asked, knowing it was impossible but asking just the same.

"Yeah. The boys?" Jack was struggling to sit up but Owen pushed him down.

"Minor injuries. The ambulance is here, act like you're at least a bit winded!" Maisie was running towards them and he turned to greet her. "Great timing, love, Jack's just come round. Stay with him while I talk to the paramedics." He saw a police car draw up behind the ambulance. This was getting to be a habit.

-ooOoo-

The house was strangely quiet after all the activity.

With the boys loaded into the ambulance, the police had wanted details of the accident. After twenty minutes on the windswept beach, Owen had insisted they get indoors before they all caught pneumonia and taken the six of them – Owen, Maisie, Alun, Jack and two police officers plus Bozo – home. Katie had risen to the occasion and given breakfast to the police officers, Henry and an awestruck Josh while the others showered to warm up. She even found some baggy jogging bottoms and a T-shirt for Jack while his own clothes dried: Alun's clothes were in his car which the police had driven. Finished with the preliminary statements, the police departed taking Alun home and giving Henry a lift to school, to his obvious delight. With breakfast over, Maisie insisted on going to school even though it was late and Katie took her and Josh, also late for playschool, when she left for the hospital. Josh had not wanted to leave - he was so excited - but was finally persuaded. Owen had already arranged for one of his partners to cover morning surgery and now had the opportunity to talk to the man who had been shadowing him.

"Nice house," commented Jack from his place at the table.

"We like it. So." Owen paused, leaning back against the central island, not quite sure where to begin. "Who exactly are you?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, like I told you before. I come from an alternate reality where you work for me. We protect Cardiff from aliens and, as you already seem to know, I can't die. Nice work covering up, by the way. It's no fun waking up in the morgue." He shivered theatrically.

Owen stared at him, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. The man was insane. "Aliens? Other … realities?" He ignored the not dying bit for the moment. Strange as it seemed, that was the one thing he did believe.

"I know, it sounds incredible but it's true. It's like this." Jack went into the speech he'd worked up with Toshiko the day before. He spoke for nearly ten minutes during which time Owen was back sitting at the table and both men had finished their coffees. "So, there you have it," concluded Jack, reaching down to stroke Bozo's head which was resting on his knee. "Any questions?"

"Hundreds!"

"Fire away."

Owen opened his mouth, formed words but nothing came out. He closed it again. "I don't know where to start."

"Good place might be how you knew I wasn't really dead," suggested Jack.

"Yes. I don't understand that," Owen said wonderingly. "I just … knew that I could safely ignore you, concentrate on the boys."

"And keep them away. I did notice I was left with my feet in the sea!" he joked. "It's because there's a part of you that knows me and you drew on that this morning. Ever had any dreams that didn't make sense, images that seemed like something you'd seen at a movie but no one else remembered?"

"Umm, not that I can … Actually, yes." Owen leant forward. "There's this cage, a biggish one, and a … beast? Kind of human and yet not. Big teeth and claws, vicious."

"A Weevil." He described one in more detail which Owen recognised. "They're aliens and live in the sewers in my Cardiff. You fought one of them in a cage once. A mesh cage, in an abandoned building."

"Why did I do that?"

"You'd … lost someone you cared about so took a stupid risk." Jack did not want to mention Diane Holmes' name if he could avoid it, it would be better if Owen remembered that for himself.

"Katie?"

"No. In my reality you and Katie aren't married. You're single and loving it, quite the swinger."

"So I don't have children either," said Owen slowly.

He looked at the wall behind Jack where a large family photograph hung over the sofa. They'd had it taken professionally only a few months ago when Josh had objected to not being in the one that had hung there previously. It was one of Owen's favourites. He was seated on the left, leaning back against a wall with Katie in his arms. Henry was standing behind them with Maisie sitting on the bench beside her mother and Josh standing in front, hands in his pockets. All of them were relaxed and laughing. Owen could not imagine a life without Katie and the children.

"No." Jack waited, watching the play of emotion on Owen's face. This man was very different to the one he knew. He was still a skilled and unflappable doctor, calm in a crisis, but he was also a consummate family man whose children obviously respected and adored him. The family seemed to take strength from one another. This is what it would have been like in Jack's reality if Katie had not died.

"I don't like the sound of that." He was silent for several minutes. "You know that all you've told me is absolutely preposterous?"

"Oh yeah," smiled Jack, "but true. Any other … dreams?" Owen shook his headm deciding not to mention the one about the dead man. "You may get more now. I think seeing me triggers them."

"They'll be nightmares then!"

"Hey!" Both men smiled. Their shared involvement in the events at the beach had given them a grudging respect for one another.

"This morning, early this morning, what were you doing at the bridge?"

"Waiting for you. I was hoping to get a chance to talk but you went off as soon as Andy Davidson had finished with you."

"What happened there? Did you see Ramona Spraggs jump?" Owen had rather pushed the memory of those events from his mind and they now came rushing back. She had been his patient for over ten years although he'd not seen much of her until her operation and when he'd had to help her through the unfortunate consequences.

"Yes. She was on the bridge, waited until there was a break in the traffic and then … climbed up and let go."

"Why didn't you stop her!"

Jack spread his hands. "I can't. There's already been too much disruption to this reality because you and the others – Tosh, Gwen, Ianto - are here. If I start changing things as well all hell will break loose."

"You rescued Celyn," pressed Owen. "Why him and not her?"

"Celyn was always going to live, Ramona Spraggs wasn't."

Owen sat back in his chair and grimaced. "How do you know these things? How can you possibly know?"

"I managed to get from my reality to yours. Knowing what's going to happen isn't so hard."

"Do you know why she did it? I … I have this feeling I should have - "

"No, Owen, no. It was nothing you did or didn't do. The police have already found that she'd been planning this for some time. Plus, she did try before." Owen stared at him. "It failed, obviously, and no one knew. An overdose of paracetemol."

"I failed her."

"You're a good doctor, the best I've ever seen. There was nothing you could have done."

They talked for another half an hour, going over the same ground until Jack decided it was time to leave. Owen needed time to take in all Jack had told him, and to recover from the twin emergencies of the day. With his wet clothes in a black sack and wearing his greatcoat, Jack departed in a taxi leaving Owen with a lot to think about.

* * *

_In the next chapter we meet Ianto, and the rating changes to M. You have been warned!_


	4. Ianto

_Please note this chapter is verging on an M rating. It's not too graphic but I don't want you to be surprised later. Jack is about to discover Ianto in the alternate reality ..._

**

* * *

****Hide and Seek**

Ianto

"Look, lovey, it's not going to work. Pink was never your colour." Max stood with hands on hips gazing at his lover. "Try the purple, that's so you."

"Humph."

Ianto Jones took the purple AND the pink shirts from the display and went to the changing rooms. Max had set himself up as a fashion guru á la Gok Wan and he was driving Ianto nuts. Even more irritating, he was usually right. Stripping off his sweater, Ianto tried the pink shirt first, loving the feel of the silk against his skin. But one look in the mirror showed that, yet again, Max had been on the money. The pink was too light and made him look fat and washed out. Putting it back on the hanger, he tried the purple and was transformed from a forty four year old accountant into a sexy beast.

The curtain of the changing room was whisked back with a cry of, "Let me see, lovey. Oh yes, now didn't I say that was you."

Max entered the cubicle, barely big enough for one, and circled Ianto very close. His hands strayed to the Welshman's hips and caressed the still-firm arse before turning him round so they were face to face and groin to groin. The questing hands moved up, feeling the soft fabric of the shirt.

"You were right," admitted Ianto, pressing his hips forward and taking Max's head between his hands. Their lips met in an exploratory kiss, tongues flicking into receptive mouths.

They had been together for five years, an amazing length of time for both of them. Cardiff's gay scene was lively and promiscuous and yet these two – who had kept their looks and were still fit in their forties – were sticking it out together. Max Ekersley was the younger by four years and loved to camp it up while Ianto was more reserved. Their kiss was getting deeper when the sound of someone clearing his throat made them pull apart and look at the man standing outside the cubicle.

"It's rude to stare!" said Ianto forcefully, reaching for the curtain.

"Damn right, it is." Max's gaze was travelling up and down the man who had interrupted them, taking in the chiselled jaw and impressive physique.

"Hello there. I just wanted to say that purple's good but not quite right. Try this one." The man held out a hanger with the same shirt but in red.

Ianto took it automatically and was still standing there when the curtain was drawn across. Max, in two minds whether to stay or go, opted for the latter and ducked out to discover more about the newcomer; he'd make a great third. Left to himself, Ianto removed the purple shirt and put on the red. If the purple had made him look sexy, the red made him into a predator waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. He couldn't believe he'd never tried the colour before.

Max's voice, still with the trace of his native Mancunian accent, could be heard outside the cubicle so Ianto knew he was still there. Sussing out the other man, he thought without rancour; they both did it all the time and it was not a problem for either of them. With a final look in the mirror, Ianto decided to try out the shirt on both men and drew back the curtain.

"Well?" he asked, one hand above his head, resting on the side of the cubicle and with what he hoped was a smouldering pout.

"Oooh," groaned Max, "yummy, yummy. Come to mummy." He pulled Ianto out into the narrow corridor and planted a smacker on his lips. "Red is so you. How did you know that, Jack?" His hand came to rest on Ianto's arse and squeezed hard.

Ianto ignored the touch and looked at the other man, aware of dazzling blue eyes roving over his body, and sucked in his stomach; he had to get to the gym and work on his muffin top. This Jack – trust Max to get his name so fast – was well worth a second look and Ianto noted the toned body, the handsome features and confident way he held himself. The clothes were … unusual. Ianto didn't know anyone else who went in for the 1940s' military look, with braces no less, but it suited this man, seemed part of him.

"How did you?" asked Ianto.

Jack's grin widened. "Lucky guess. You two want to get a drink?"

"Sure," agreed Max, squeezing hard once more then releasing Ianto's rear end. "And you," he said to Ianto, "can keep that on." He batted his eyelids and blew a kiss before pushing Ianto back into the cubicle to get his things.

Ten minutes later, Ianto had bought both the red and purple shirts and was walking through St David's Centre wearing the red one. It was Saturday afternoon and the place was busy with shoppers which meant they couldn't always walk together. Max stuck close to Ianto, arm round his waist and leaning in close, while Jack sauntered along beside the couple. Ianto couldn't help noticing that the crowds parted for him.

-ooOoo-

Bar Icon was pleasantly busy downstairs but Ianto walked through the guys hanging out there, nodding to a few acquaintances, leading the way upstairs to the more intimate lounge. Jack followed him, smiling at the many handsome young men who looked in his direction, while Max loudly greeted friends and former partners. He was still downstairs when Ianto was standing at the upper bar with Jack.

"What'll you have?"

"Water, from the tap," said Jack, standing with his back to the bar, elbows resting on it. He ignored Ianto's puzzled look and continued to sweep the room, eyes meeting those of more handsome, and some not so handsome, guys. All were interested and received a beaming smile in return.

Ianto ordered the water, beer for himself and a strawberry margarita for Max. His partner was mad on cocktails and loved the little umbrellas or swizzle sticks that came with most of them. When the drinks were ready, Ianto led the way to a booth and slipped onto the bench seat. Jack made to sit beside him then stopped himself, taking the seat opposite.

"Cheers," said Ianto raising his bottle to clink with Jack's glass. "You off the booze for a reason?"

Ianto had come out late, at twenty four, after some unrewarding relationships with girls. He'd thrown himself into the gay scene and had a number of bad experiences before he'd learnt to be more discriminating in his choice of partners. One had been a rugby player from Pontypool, an alcoholic handy with his fists, and ever since Ianto had steered clear of anyone who drank too much. In his experience, anyone who drank water had to have a problem with booze, or have had one.

"Don't like it. It does nothing for me so why waste my money, or yours." Jack smiled again, had hardly stopped since meeting this version of Ianto. He was similar to the man he knew but also different in many ways.

"What do you do?"

"You'd never believe me."

"Try me." Ianto sipped his beer, keeping his gaze on the man opposite. He was hard to categorise and the outfit didn't give any clues. Ianto pegged him at around forty, maybe ex-military.

"I hunt aliens."

Ianto laughed. "Okay, so don't tell me." It didn't bother him much. Lots of guys on the gay scene wanted to keep a low profile and were close-lipped. At least Jack had a sense of humour.

"I said you wouldn't believe me. What about you?"

"Very boring. I'm an accountant, with Ham & Co."

"Not at all boring. I think figures can be very exciting."

Ianto was not sure why this simple statement caused a shiver to run up and down his spine. Jack seemed to put a wealth of meaning into the innocuous words that other men could never manage. Before Ianto could respond, Max dramatically flounced across the room and sat beside Ianto. He put an arm round the Welshman's shoulders and pecked his cheek.

"You won't believe it, lovey, there's a bash at Kai's tonight. Everyone, just everyone is going to be there. I think we should go, don't you?" He sipped the margarita. "I know he's not your favourite, lovey, but it'll be good." He leant across to Jack keeping the arm round Ianto. "Kai's one of my exes, Ianto gets a bit jealous."

"No, I don't. I just don't like the flash git."

Max rolled his eyes at Jack as if to say 'What did I tell you?' "There'll be good nosh and plenty of booze, lovey. Might even be some fairy dust."

"And that's why I don't like him. You know what I think about drugs." Ianto remained cool and collected. "And I'd have thought you'd have learnt not to have anything to with them either. Or did you like having your stomach pumped?"

"Oh, don't be like that. Now Jack'll think I'm some kind of druggie." He pouted and sat back in the seat, his arm falling from Ianto's shoulders, creating space between them. "I'm not, you know, just like a bit of something to take the edge off. Unlike Mr Stick-up-his-Arse here."

For the next few minutes Max sulked while Ianto appeared unconcerned, sipping his beer and looking out of the window. Jack continued to smile, watching them. Max was ridiculously camp in his tight white sleeveless T-shirt, black leather trousers and Doc Martens. A huge silver belt buckle drew attention to his bulging groin; must be padded, thought Jack. Max's face was narrow and the features sharp, exaggerated by the eye-liner, blusher and bleached white hair with one black streak on the left temple. Ianto, on the other hand, did not look overtly gay. His tidy, short dark hair and familiar features gave nothing away. The red shirt was worn open necked – revealing a hint of curly chest hair – and was tucked into designer jeans. His clothes and boots were obviously expensive but were suitable for a straight or gay man, a typical metrosexual.

"I won't go if you've got something better in mind," volunteered Max after a couple of minutes' silence. "Got Jack here to join us yet?" He smirked at Jack, licking his lips.

"Not yet. We were having a normal conversation until you arrived."

"He is so backward," went on Max, leaning forward once more and reaching a hand to stroke Jack's forearm, on view as he'd removed his coat. "How about it, Jack? Want to come home with us and … play?"

"Was hoping you'd ask."

"Oooh, goodie!" squealed Max, loud enough for heads to turn to look in their direction. "I'll get another round in." He bounced up and was off to the bar in a moment.

"You don't have to come, if you'd rather not," said Ianto, looking at Jack steadily. "Max can be a bit … overpowering." He smiled wryly at the understatement.

"I'd like to come … as long as YOU want me to." Jack's gaze was as steady as Ianto's and for once he wasn't smiling.

Ianto gulped, not understanding how this man, a stranger until an hour before, could give him a hard-on with just a look. "I want you," he whispered, never taking his eyes from Jack's face.

-ooOoo-

They stayed in the bar for another two hours, drinking and eating. Max was chatty and loud which attracted other guys and soon there was a crowd gathered in and around their booth. Jack was against the window with a shaven headed, black man pressed up against him and a young boy squeezed in on the end. Ianto was scrunched up opposite Jack with Max almost in his lap and a large Welshman – the Kai who was having the party later – taking up the rest of the seat. Others, mainly youngsters, were hanging over the backs of the seats of the adjoining booths and four more had pulled over chairs to sit alongside.

" … then he pulled out his cock! The woman fainted, the boy bent over and the dog shot into the garden!"

Max's tales were getting more outrageous by the minute and as everyone laughed loudly, Ianto judged it was time to make a move. Another half an hour and the stories would be too crude for even this audience and his partner would be hyper on the attention. However, Ianto did not say anything immediately. He was enjoying some footsie under the table with Jack, had been for the past hour, and didn't want it to stop. Raising his beer bottle, he glanced at Jack and admired his profile, surprised the man was able to laugh with the others while still rubbing Ianto's inner thigh with his knee. The ripples of pleasure were wafting through the Welshman's body and he was finding it difficult to sit still.

With an effort, Ianto brought his mind back to the present. "Time we were going, Max," he said.

"Aw, so soon?" His grin turned to a leer. "Or are you desperate to take me home and bugger me till I beg for mercy? Is that it, lovey?" His audience laughed.

"That's precisely what I want. One minute to make your mind up before I ask someone else."

"Ohh, you are so masterful!" he squealed. "Out of the way, Kai, can't keep my man waiting." Max pushed at Kai who in turn nudged one of the guys on chairs out of the way. "You lot too," said Max loudly to the men on the other side of the table, "we're taking Jack with us."

"I think he should stay," said the black man, hand on Jack's thigh.

"Oh no you don't, Winston! We saw him first, he's ours!"

"I think Jack can decide for himself," put in Ianto, sliding along the seat. He knew what he wanted – Jack in his bed – and he was pretty sure it was what Jack wanted too. "He's a big boy."

"Oh my God, have you had a peek already?" accused Max, standing at the end of the booth. "Jeez, I only left them alone for five minutes!"

Jack smiled at everyone. "Sorry, Winston, I did say I'd go with them." He leant forward and gave the black man a noisy kiss on the lips. "If you wouldn't mind?" He gestured that he wanted to get out.

"You'd do better with me," growled Winston.

"Another time."

Winston was silent for a moment or two then reached into a pocket and took out a business card which he put in Jack's shirt pocket. "Call me." Then he eased out of the booth.

When all three of them were standing, Max made the rounds kissing all the guys goodbye and making promises to meet up with some of them at a future date. Ianto said a few, more restrained, goodbyes of his own and waited at the top of the stairs with Jack. After five minutes he shouted across to the room, "Now, Max!" and started down.

"You make him sound like a dog being brought to heel," commented Jack as the pair walked through the lower bar, now heaving with men – and a few women – at the start of their Saturday night entertainment.

"Wish it was that easy," sighed Ianto, holding open the door for the other man and following him through. "Max is a great guy, don't get me wrong, but give him an audience and he gets a bit manic."

"I noticed." They leant on the railings waiting for Max. "You seem very different characters."

"What's the saying, opposites attract?" Ianto smiled gently. "Don't expect him to stay this way, he'll quieten down when we get home."

"Not too much, I hope." Jack placed a hand on Ianto's thigh, casually and as if it belonged there which, to him, it did. "Unless you'd rather it was just me and you."

"Jack …" whatever Ianto had been going to say was lost as Max erupted from the bar in a tearing rush.

"Oh lordy, there you are. I thought you'd really left without me!" He kissed Ianto. "But you didn't, lovey, you waited for silly Maxie. Now, off we go." He put an arm round Ianto's waist and took Jack's hand, pulling them along with him. "Onwards!"

-ooOoo-

The apartment was on the eighteenth floor of a new block in Windsor Quay. The front door opened into the L-shaped, open plan living area with the kitchen in an alcove at the back. The two bedrooms and bathroom were on the right. It was like thousands of other apartments built in Cardiff over the past decade with white walls and light wood furniture to make it appear larger. As Jack had expected of any home occupied by Ianto, it was neat and tidy with a place for everything and everything in its place. Although at this moment, various articles of hastily discarded clothing adorned the furniture. From his place on the corner sofa next to the floor to ceiling window, Jack could see the lights of Cardiff Bay spread out against the dark night and picked out Roald Dahl Plass and the water tower. He smiled; so close and yet so far away.

"Hey," said Ianto quietly as he appeared from the bedroom, "thought you might have left already." Like Jack he was naked.

"No." Jack smiled up at him lazily. "I was taking in the view."

"Cardiff Bay." Ianto stood at the window looking down. "There's an air of … mystery about the place, don't you think?"

"Just right for hiding a top secret base."

"Yeah," chuckled Ianto, "I could see the bat-cave underneath there."

"Me too." Jack held out a hand. "Come here." Ianto hesitated for a moment then took the hand and sat down close beside Jack.

Any thought of going to Kai's party had been abandoned early in the evening when it was clear they were enjoying their own party far too much. As soon as they'd arrived at the apartment, the three had participated in some vigorous sex involving role play, bondage and lots of fucking. Max and Jack had taken the lead, egging one another on to new heights and determined to use all the toys in the flat's collection and then some. The egg whisk in particular had come in useful. Ianto had been a willing partner in the mayhem, his personal method of teasing driving the others to distraction when they were both tied up and helpless. They'd got their own back, making the Welshman wear the French maid's costume while sucking off Jack and being fucked by Max from behind. Finally, after every combination of restraint and sexual position had been tried - multiple times – they had collapsed into a sweaty heap on the bed, a jumbled mass of arms and legs, and slept.

"You have a very kissable mouth," murmured Jack, pulling Ianto forward enough to reach his lips. "And the rest of you is pretty damned kissable too." He moved his mouth down the side of Ianto's neck and then to the shoulder, placing small kisses just millimetres apart all over the skin.

Ianto groaned and threw his head back, one hand in Jack's hair. He closed his eyes and let the pleasure of the contact wash over him, wave after wave of delight as his nerve endings were caressed and stimulated. Jack seemed to know exactly where to touch, how much pressure to use, to get the ultimate response and Ianto felt himself melt as heat moved down to his groin and stirred his cock. After the night they'd had, Ianto was surprised he could be aroused again but Jack had the magic touch. The Welshman was lying on the sofa now, hands on Jack's shoulders as he licked and nuzzled at Ianto's abs causing sudden bursts of sensation that made the Welshman gasp and dig in his nails, raking tender flesh. Finally Jack reached Ianto's cock and balls and took them in his warm, moist mouth bringing the younger man to the brink of orgasm before retreating.

Feeling cheated, Ianto opened his eyes and glared up at Jack but then saw the lube and condom and smiled. When Jack was ready and back in place, Ianto swung his legs onto Jack's shoulders and braced himself against the armrest, watching as the large cock made its way into his willing arse. When Jack was fully in, he stopped, leant down and kissed Ianto gently on the lips then, with their faces centimetres apart, he came out a little before pushing back in. Ianto arched his back and lifted his hips higher allowing greater access and was rewarded with another thrust that filled him once more. They continued for a long time, graduating from slow and gentle to hard and fast, until Ianto came followed shortly afterwards by Jack. All the time they'd stared into one another's eyes, sharing everything the other was feeling.

"Thank you," whispered Ianto, pulling Jack to lie on top of him. "That was … pretty special."

"I aim to please."

"You succeeded."

They lay together for half an hour until Jack stirred and sat up. "Any chance of a coffee?"

"Sure. That's my speciality." Ianto stood and put on his boxers and the red silk shirt – it was cold in the apartment – before padding to the kitchen. Jack disappeared into the bathroom and when he returned he found his own boxers and trousers and put them on, letting the still attached braces hang down. Ianto visited the bathroom too before finishing off the drinks. "Here."

Jack took the mug of coffee with a smile of thanks. Ianto looked into the bedroom but Max was still dead to the world so he left him to sleep on, not at all unhappy to be left alone with Jack, the first man to tempt him seriously since meeting Max. With his own coffee Ianto sat on the sofa leaning against the other man, content to drink in silence.

"Ianto, I need to talk to you."

"Oh yeah?"

"It wasn't an accident that I met you. I came looking for you."

Ianto turned to look at Jack, a frown making small lines between his eyebrows. "What? Why?"

"It's a long story. It begins over there, in Cardiff Bay."

-ooOoo-

The intimate and sensual mood had evaporated as Jack's story had unfolded. Ianto was furious, with himself and Jack. It was utterly preposterous. A traveller from another reality? A real life alien hunter? In Cardiff? And he, Ianto, was an alien hunter too? The story just got more ludicrous by the minute.

"I don't know what you hope to gain by spinning this stupid tale," Ianto said, staring down at Jack where he sat on the sofa. "I think you'd better leave."

"Please, Ianto, I know -"

"Don't, don't even try and explain." Ianto threw one of Jack's boots at him. "Just get out!"

"Okay," agreed Jack, catching the second boot that was aimed at his head. "Will you stop throwing things at me?" He bent and put on the boots deciding not to say any more for the moment. He completed dressing in uncomfortable silence and when he had his greatcoat on walked to where Ianto was holding open the front door. "I'm sorry I upset you, but everything I told you is true."

"Get. Out." Ianto's face was an expressionless mask. He had let this guy into their lives and, he admitted to himself, had been close to letting him into his heart too. Jack was a complete nutter, he had to be, and regardless of how good he was in bed, how loving and how much he made Ianto care, he had to leave.

Jack stopped halfway through the door. "Don't worry if Max takes a while to wake up. I slipped him a sedative so I could be alone with you."

"You bastard!" Jack walked out of the apartment to the bank of lifts as Ianto slammed the door with great force.

Taking huge deep breaths, Ianto stood inside the front door, fists clenched. How dare he? In a fit of pique, he pulled the red shirt off his back and ripped it to pieces, flinging them around the room. Feeling calmer, he went into the bedroom and sat by Max, checking him over. His partner was a light sleeper and the recent contretemps would normally have woken him but he was still deeply asleep. The bastard really had drugged him. Needing the comfort of a touch, Ianto crawled into the bed and curled himself around Max, holding him close. It took an hour but, eventually, Ianto dozed off, the tears still wet on his face.

He was woken by a shriek from outside the room, a high pitched one that burned the fog from his brain. Leaping from the bed, he ran out and found Max holding up pieces of the red shirt.

"Lovey, your shirt! Your lovely, sexy red shirt. What happened to it?" He looked heartbroken, like a little boy whose favourite toy has been broken. "Did I do this? Oh Ianto, I just don't know my own strength."

"You didn't do it, Max." Ianto stepped forward and took the pieces, bending to pick up another. "It was an accident."

"I'll buy you another one. Today, we'll go back today and get another." Grabbing Ianto round the waist he gave him a slobbering kiss.

"No. Thanks, Max, but no. I'm going to stick to purple, that's the one you chose." How could Ianto explain that the red one reminded him of Jack, a man who had reached into his soul and then betrayed him, when he didn't understand it himself. "How you feeling?"

"Me?" He wriggled experimentally as if he needed to use the toilet. "Bit sore but okay. You? God, that was a great night. When did Jack leave?"

"Early this morning. Go start the shower while I get rid of this," he held up the tatters of red fabric, "and then I'll come join you." He kissed Max before aiming him in the right direction.

They had their shared shower, giggling and silly as they soaped one another's bodies and counted the bruises and bites from the night before. Still wet, they ran to the bedroom and Ianto gave himself to Max, lying back as he was entered and hoping it would make him forget Jack doing the same. It didn't. Where Jack had played Ianto's body like a violin, getting responses from the merest touch and bringing Ianto to a pitch of anticipation he had rarely achieved before, Max was hurried and more intent on the climax than the getting there. Ianto wanted to put this down to the situation but he recognised that this wasn't true; Max had never been big on anticipation.

A pall of regret and dissatisfaction settled over Ianto as the two washed – again - and had a late breakfast. Max was chatting and lively, his usual self, obviously unaffected by the sedative, and didn't notice that Ianto was quieter than normal as he attempted to reconcile his conflicting emotions. At eleven forty, Max bounded up from the table and took his plate and mug into the kitchen.

"Time to meet the others, lovey," he said. A group of guys met at the local pub every Sunday for drinks before deciding how to spend the rest of the day. Sometimes it was shopping, sometimes a trip to the beach at Barry but whatever it was Max was always in the middle of the action. "Are my harem pants back from the cleaners?" He went off to the bedroom without waiting for a reply.

Ianto stayed at the table, pouring the last of the coffee into his mug. The last thing he wanted was to meet the guys; he needed time to think. He had drunk the coffee and was loading the dishwasher when Max returned.

"What do you think?" He stood in the middle of room and twirled around, his arms out. He had on brown harem pants and a tie-died yellow and brown collarless shirt made by Carys, a lesbian friend of his. Max grinned at his partner. "Good enough to eat, huh?"

Ianto forced a smile. "Sure is."

"Now for the finishing touches." He ran off into the bedroom and Ianto continued clearing up. "Got any more spray, lovey?" shouted Max. "This one's finished."

With a sigh, Ianto went to the bathroom and got the spare hairspray and took it into the bedroom. He found Max standing at the foot of the bed – which was still unmade – in front of the mirror working on his hair. It was in a forward leaning peak at the front with the rest plastered to his head. "Are you going out like that?"

"Of course. You know the guys love me to try new things." Max looked across at Ianto, noticing for the first time that he seemed a little distracted. "Are you okay?"

"A headache," lied Ianto, going to the window and opening it wide; the room smelt as stale as the rest of the apartment. "Not sure I'm up for a day out with the guys."

"What? Oh, lovey, you have to come." Max enveloped the slightly taller Ianto in a hug. "You taken something? Shall I get them?"

"No, it's okay. But … do you think we could have a quiet day? Just the two of us. We could stay in and - "

"It's Sunday, Ianto." Max drew back a puzzled expression on his face. "We always go out."

Ianto knew then that Max would not change his plans. He was the one who enjoyed the scene most, revelling in the attention and acting as outrageously as he could; it was his reward for conforming during the week. At any other time, Ianto wouldn't mind, would go along and enjoy himself in his quieter way, but meeting Jack had unsettled him, made him doubt his choices. Which was ridiculous, he reminded himself, and yet … He debated pressing the point with Max, making him choose between Ianto and his friends, but as he already knew what the outcome would be it was not a route he wanted to try. He didn't want to lose Max.

"You're right, Max. But you go on and meet them, I'll join you later when the headache's better and I've cleared up in here." He gestured round the room which was a mess. "Only be an hour or two."

"I could wait," volunteered Max, already back looking in the mirror. Having decided on his hair, he started on his makeup. "But not too long," he added.

"No, that's okay."

Ten minutes later, Max had left and Ianto was on his own. He stripped the bed and remade it, cleaned and put away all the toys and then hoovered the whole apartment. Slowly he got dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, his mind still going over the events of the previous night. A phone call from Max reminded him that time was moving on – the guys were about to hit the shops – and he arranged to meet them in The Hayes.

-ooOoo-

Sunday had never been so mundane and boring and yet such a mix of emotions for Ianto.

The seven of them traipsed from one shop to the next, looking at a lot and buying a little. Max was solicitous of Ianto for a while then turned his attention to Aziz, a very attractive twenty three year old. Max was taken with him and they'd had him back to the apartment a time or two. Standing to one side, Ianto watched Max and saw him fondling Aziz's arse. It reminded the Welshman of their last threesome with the boy when he – Ianto - had been relegated to spectator for a lot of the time. He had believed Max was committed to their relationship but he was starting to have doubts. If he slipped away, would Max notice?

On the spur of the moment, Ianto decided to try it and moved behind some racks and made his way out of the shop, crossed the pedestrianised street and dived into a bookshop. Half-hidden behind a stack of recent arrivals, he watched the shop opposite and ten minutes later saw the guys emerge. Aziz was draped round Max who didn't seem to mind. The guys started walking and had gone several metres before someone – not Max, noted Ianto – started looking around; obviously Ianto had been missed. They milled around for a while, going back into the shop opposite, before Max finally let go of Aziz and got out his mobile.

"_Ianto, where are you?" _asked Max as soon as the phone stopped ringing_. _

"In the bookshop. Won't be a minute."

"_Hurry up then, lovey."_ The call ended abruptly.

Ianto took another few minutes, watching the guys hang out, some sitting on a bench others standing around, before emerging from the shop. "Sorry to keep you. I wanted to see if a book I wanted was in yet." He smiled at them all impartially and allowed Max to grab his hand – Max's other was firmly attached to the back of Aziz's belt – and be brought back into the group as it moved on up the street.

They ended up in the cinema. It was a movie Ianto had already seen and he sat in the darkness thinking about Max, about their relationship and finally about his job. He was disturbed to realise that his dissatisfaction with his private life encompassed his job too. Accountancy was all he had ever done and while it was not exciting it had brought him a good salary and he was – or had thought he was – content to continue in the profession. Not now. He suddenly felt very alone, as if something or someone important was missing from his life. He looked at Max sitting beside him to find him stroking Aziz's crotch, their heads close together.

Slipping from his seat, luckily one on the aisle, Ianto walked out of the auditorium and into the foyer, standing leaning against the wall and taking in deep breaths. This was madness. In one night his world, and his plans for the future, had been turned upside down. Why? Could it really be all because of what Jack had said? Could that rubbish possibly be true?

"Hey, lovey, you all right?" asked Max. He had come up on Ianto quietly and was now stood in front of him. "Still got that head?"

"Yeah. It doesn't seem to want to go." Ianto managed a smile. "I think I'll head home."

"Okay. You get rid of that head," Max stroked Ianto's forehead, "and we'll come join you later."

"We?"

"Aziz is hot tonight!" Max leered, desire in his eyes. "He is so up for it."

"I really don't feel like it, Max."

"But he's hot. Don't you like him?"

"Not really. He's always been more your friend than mine." Ianto decided to give Max a choice. "If you want to be with him, go back to his place."

"You be okay with that, lovey, because I really want him." The last was said as Max looked towards the screening room.

Ianto had his answer and he suddenly felt sick. "I have to get some air. Don't make too much noise when you come in." With that, he turned and walked through the foyer and out of the automatic doors. All the time he was hoping Max would come after him and beg him to stay, or change his mind and leave too. But standing in the early evening light by the taxi rank Ianto looked back: there was no sign of Max. He had gone back to Aziz.

-ooOoo-

Leaving the lift at the eighteenth floor, Ianto turned right towards the apartment and stopped. Sitting on the floor was Jack Harkness, his head and back resting against the front door and his legs stretched out in front of him with ankles crossed. He was reading a paperback book and had a glass of water at his side. Ianto walked slowly up to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." Jack smiled up, a tentative one as he was not sure of his ground.

Ianto was too tired and confused to argue. Perhaps Jack could help him understand why he felt this way. "You'd better come in."

"I'll just return these to Lorna." Jack stood up in one fluid movement and knocked on one of the other front doors. It opened to reveal a red-haired woman with a small pyjama-clad boy in her arms. "He's turned up, Lorna, many thanks for these." He placed the book and glass on a table just inside her door.

"That's okay. Hello," she said to Ianto, "Lorna Armitage."

"Hi, Ianto Jones. Nice to meet you." Ianto had opened his own front door and was standing awkwardly in the doorway. He knew none of his neighbours. He was at work during the day and out most nights so unless they travelled up together in the lift he never got to see them.

"Thanks again," said Jack, rubbing a finger over the child's cheek. "Night night, Sam."

"Ni' night," lisped the boy with a shy smile.

With a smile, Jack followed Ianto into the apartment. "Nice neighbours."

"I wouldn't know. Coffee?" Ianto dropped his keys into the basket and went into the kitchen.

"Please." Jack sensed it was better not to rush in and took off his greatcoat, draping it over a dining chair, before going to stand by the window. Lights were just starting to come on across Cardiff Bay and the rest of the city. He was still there when Ianto joined him with the drinks. "Thanks."

"What do you want?" asked Ianto settling in the chair, his mug cradled in both hands.

Jack sat on the sofa leaning forward, mug on the floor and his forearms on his knees. "To talk."

"About aliens and alternate realities?" Ianto's raised eyebrow and tone indicated what he thought about those.

"Yes. I'm know it sounds strange but I assure you it's true."

"I'm really two people? Two Ianto Joneses in one?" Ianto scoffed before sipping his cappuccino.

"Yes. And if you think about it you'll know it's true." He picked up the mug. "This for instance. How did you know I take my coffee strong and black? That's how you made it for me yesterday and today. I never told you."

Ianto stared at him. "You must have."

Jack shook his head. "Have you had any odd dreams, images that flash into your mind that you don't understand?"

"With aliens in them, you mean?" Ianto covered his confusion with scorn.

"Maybe. Or maybe just of another life."

"No, sorry to disappoint you, no aliens. A dinosaur occasionally but no aliens."

"Pterodactyl. Or Pteranodon to be precise."

"How did you know that?"

"We captured her. She was flying round a warehouse and you tempted her down with - "

"- chocolate," they both said together.

"Dark chocolate," added Jack with a smile. "You wanted to join Torchwood and in an effort to persuade me to sign you up, you found Myfanwy. That's what we call her."

Ianto stared at the ceiling. Could it really be true? But if it wasn't, how could Jack know about his dream? How did he, Ianto, know how Jack took his coffee? He screwed up his eyes, in danger of really getting a headache. There was one other dream he had, one he wasn't sure how to mention without revealing too much.

"I know it's a lot to take in and that most of it is very strange," Jack said, hoping he had made a connection. "All I ask is that you keep an open mind."

"And what? There must be a reason you're here telling me all this." Ianto finished his drink and put the mug down.

"There is but I can't explain now. Meet me on Wednesday. Two o'clock at Nico's, the coffee shop in the Bay, and I'll tell you everything."

"I'm working on Wednesday."

"Skip it, take a sick day. You need to be there, Ianto." Jack stood up, thinking he had done as much as he could to persuade the Welshman.

"I could work at home I suppose." Ianto also stood. "Are you leaving?"

"I assume you want me to," replied Jack slowly. He waited but when Ianto said nothing more, he picked up his coat and made for the door.

"Don't go." Ianto closed the gap between them and, taking Jack's face in his hands, kissed him. He tasted just as he had in that other dream.

* * *

_What did you think? Like this Ianto? Do tell me, I'd love to know. We get to meet Gwen next. _


	5. Gwen

_Time to meet Gwen ..._

* * *

**Hide and Seek**

Gwen

The interview room was plain and dreary and smelt of stale sweat. The table and four chairs were utilitarian and battered and, as Inspector Gwen Williams knew well, supremely uncomfortable. She was sat in the room facing Ray Langer - a pain in the arse petty criminal who had a string of convictions for everything from shoplifting to mugging to drug possession to car theft - and his solicitor. Ray had been pulled in as a minor member of a gang stealing luxury cars to order and Gwen was trying to turn him against his mates.

"We've got you fair and square, Ray. You were in the stolen car. With your record, you're looking at gaol time. That what you want? Is Jenny going to wait for you?"

"What exactly do you want, Inspector?" asked the solicitor, Graham Morgan, one of the pool of duty solicitors who could be called upon to defend suspects who had no other representation.

"The organisers, the bosses. If Ray gives me details that nail them that'll be taken into account when sentencing." She turned her attention back to Langer. "What about it, Ray? What do you owe them?"

"I don't want no prison. You keep me out?" he asked. He was a nervous man of twenty six, constantly picking at a patch on the table where the Formica was coming adrift from the plywood underneath.

"Can't guarantee that, Ray, it's not like the telly. But I'll put in a word for you." She gazed at him and weighed his response, her twenty years as a detective telling her he was going to cooperate. He had a year old baby and his partner, Jenny, was a steady girl who had tried to get him away from crime; he had every reason to take the offer.

"Let me talk to my client," offered Morgan with an encouraging smile. He too thought it would be Langer's best interest to provide the information.

"Okay. Interview suspended at … ten eighteen. Inspector Gwen Williams is leaving the room." She turned off the tape recorder and scraped back the chair, the metal legs making a grinding sound, loud in the echoing room. "I won't be far, just tell the PC outside when you want to resume."

Shutting the door behind her, she told the PC where to find her and headed up the stairs and down corridors until she reached a door at the rear of the building. The grandly named courtyard was a mass of cracked concrete and cigarette butts with a few hardy weeds pushing up and widening the cracks. The smell of burnt toast and boiled cabbage hung in the air, coming from the canteen kitchen which opened onto the space on the floor above, against a background of car fumes and other less identifiable aromas. She had the space to herself and went to her favourite corner where a low wall provided a seat and got out her cigarettes and lighter. Taking the first welcome drag on her cigarette, she checked her mobile for messages. Most were from Barker, her sergeant on this case and the one keeping an eye on the rest of the gang who had been left to go about their business, for now.

The two remaining messages concerned her family and she sighed as she read the first, her daughter's usual morning call reaching out for reassurance that her mother was all right. At fourteen Isabel had got it into her head that Gwen was going to be gunned down by some angry criminal. Superficially this was the result of too much TV but really it stemmed from the girl's insecurity following the divorce. Gwen was sympathetic, up to a point, but it had been three years since she and Rhys had split up. Was Isabel never going to come to terms with it? She sent a quick reassuring reply. The other message concerned her son Martin, seventeen and unemployed, who had been picked up for doing drugs a month before and had now, according to PC Willis, been seen at it again. The first time, Gwen had managed to keep Martin out of trouble but his continuing behaviour made her wonder if that had been wise. Her family was a disaster area that she wished she could ignore. She had succeeded in putting the mess out of her mind and was taking another drag on her cigarette when someone cleared his throat beside her.

"Hello there," the man said with a dazzling smile.

Gwen said nothing for several minutes, smoking the cigarette and keeping her gaze fixed on the newcomer. "So?" she said eventually. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Captain Jack Harkness. I want to talk to you."

He continued to smile at her and Gwen felt uncomfortable under his steady gaze. She was forty nine years old, overweight and unkempt after years of poor eating and no time for herself. Normally it didn't bother her but this man made her wish she had dropped a stone – or two – brushed her hair and put on some makeup. He was … gorgeous. Dark fashionably spiky hair, good skin over fine cheekbones and a strong jaw sat atop broad shoulders and toned body. His hands, she noticed hands, were strong too, with long fingers.

"Captain of what?" His coat appeared to be military but he didn't look like any army officers she'd met.

His smile became a grin. "RAF. You're looking into James and Peter Butcher's little operation, right? I might have something for you. Meet me at this address, eight tonight, and we can talk." He handed her a card which she took automatically. She was looking at it when he strode away – his long coat flapping behind him – before she could ask any more. He had disappeared round the corner of the building when a PC came out to find her; Langer wanted to talk.

Tapping the edge of the card against her leg, she went back inside. The Butchers were the cousins running the car theft ring, the ones she wanted Ray Langer to give up, and she needed any information she could get if she was going to make an arrest stick. The CPS was unhappy about weak cases after some recent failures. With a deep sigh, she reached for her mobile and made arrangements for her neighbour to watch Isabel that night.

-ooOoo-

The house was like all the others in the street, a three bedroom semi with attached garage, small front garden put down to gravel - now weed-infested - as a parking space for Martin's old banger of a car, a present from his father when he'd passed his test. The house needed attention - the guttering was clogged and the windows dirty - and the larger back garden was in a similar state of neglect. It contained a slimy patio, on which were two dirty plastic chairs and a wonky table, and a patch of mossy grass with overrun flower beds on all four sides. In one corner, raspberry canes ran amok and were a danger to anyone who got too close.

Gwen stood at the closed patio doors looking out into the wilderness of the garden and finished her glass of red wine. It hadn't always been like this. She and Rhys had moved in a year or so after getting married when Martin was on the way. The place had been cared for then, inside and out, and they'd enjoyed putting their mark on the first home they'd owned. Martin and later Isabel had played in the garden – rugby mainly – but there had been swings and a trampoline for a while too, and a Wendy house. As the children had grown older and the marriage had started to fail, the house and garden were the first to show the signs that all was not well.

The front door slammed and heavy footsteps clumped down the hall to the kitchen/diner and Martin appeared. "Hey, Mam." He went to the fridge and got a can of beer, popping it open and taking a long draught.

"What have you been doing today?"

"Just hanging, Mam." His voice had the habitual edge of irritation that characterised all family conversations. "Get off my case."

"I heard you were seen up at the precinct with Kevin and Alan. Doing drugs." She was facing him now, her voice as level and calm as she could make it. She didn't want a confrontation with her son. He was almost an adult and was certainly as big as one. She wasn't exactly frightened of him but she was wary.

"So what?" He affected boredom and made to leave, to spend an hour or two in front of the TV before going back out. "I don't need you telling me what to do."

"You're right, Martin, and I'm not going to." She had worked out this strategy during the afternoon and decided to stick with it. "But be warned, get caught again and you take the consequences. I won't be pulling in any favours to get you out of trouble." She turned and rinsed the empty wine glass before putting it in the dishwasher.

"Fine. When's dinner?"

"Twenty minutes."

He slouched out into the living room and the television came on almost immediately, tuned to some mindless pap. Gwen wondered why her son had turned out this way, he had been bright and got good grades when was younger, but didn't dwell on it; he was what he was. Both she and Rhys had done all they could for him and now he was on his own. She put the potatoes on and checked the chicken before going upstairs to shower and change.

Isabel was in her room with the door closed and music playing just loudly enough to be heard but not enough to annoy. Gwen paused, thought about going in then decided against it. They'd spoken about her need for constant reassurance and Gwen couldn't face going over it again. As always, Isabel had argued her case passionately and been stubborn enough to stick with it regardless of anything Gwen said. Rhys had always got on better with the girl and Gwen decided to let him talk to her when he had her for the weekend. He should take his share of the parenting even if he didn't live with them.

-ooOoo-

Dinner was almost over when Gwen said, "I have to go out later, work. Mrs Preston's coming round to sit with you, Izzy."

Isabel put down her spoon. "Aw, Mam!" she wailed. "Why?"

"I told you, work. I don't expect to be long, besides you'll be up in your room practicing." Isabel played the clarinet and was due to take her Grade five in a couple of weeks. "What homework have you got?"

"History, essay on Henry VIII." The girl went back to her meal still unhappy. "I've done most of it."

"That's good." Gwen sat back, trying to be positive. "Finish that before you do your practice." She turned to Martin. "I assume you'll be out."

"Yeah."

He spent most of his time with his mates, one of whom had a flat of his own and kept open house for everyone else. Gwen didn't want to think about what they got up to. She knew there was plenty of booze and she assumed sex – there were usually some girls hanging around – and drugs. So far Martin had stuck to pot and an odd tab of E and while she didn't like it, and had discussed the consequences with him, she accepted that he was of an age to experiment. As long as he stuck to the less harmful stuff and kept it out of their home, she didn't make too much of a fuss but if he moved on to harder drugs she would be a lot less tolerant. What he needed was a job but a year of searching without success had disheartened him.

"Okay, don't be too late in tonight." She reached across and started stacking the bowls now Isabel had finished eating. "Your dad'll be calling soon." Rhys called every evening to check on the children and speak to them, as well as having Isabel most weekends. He was a good father.

"Right." Martin got up and left the room.

"I'll help, Mam," said Isabel, also standing and taking the remains of the trifle to the fridge.

The two of them cleared up, loading the dishwasher and chatting about this and that. When they'd finished, they joined Martin in the sitting room and watched some television until Rhys called at seven. All three of them spoke to him and afterwards Isabel went off to her room to get on with her essay. Gwen took her laptop to the dining table and checked her case notes on the Butchers and the information Barker had dug up on one Captain Jack Harkness, or rather what he hadn't found.

The only record of that name related to a wartime pilot, an American volunteer, who disappeared in 1941. So who was the man Gwen had met that morning? Someone who wanted to hide his true identity, she decided, watching the thirty second piece of CCTV Barker had found from when 'Harkness' had walked past the station. He was a striking man, whoever he was, good looking and confident. Putting aside this mystery, she read Ray Langer's statement which didn't give her enough to bring in the Butchers. They were clever, keeping their hired help like Langer in the dark about their plans. They had used him to drive cars from A to B, not involving him in the actual thefts or the eventual sale of the vehicles, so all he could say was that he had been given £100 by a man – never the same one twice – to drive. Of course Langer could be lying, playing down his role, but she didn't think so.

The front doorbell rang and she heard Martin go to answer it. Surprised but pleased, Gwen stayed where she was wondering if this meant her son was not past all hope. Footsteps came down the hall and Martin appeared followed by Sergeant Terry Barker.

"It's your mate," said Martin. "Want a beer?" he asked the man, going to the fridge.

Barker, twenty six and prematurely balding, looked at Gwen who nodded. "Thanks, that would go down well." He took the can, opened it and hovered uncertainly before sitting at the table. Martin disappeared back into the sitting room.

"We have nothing," said Gwen, reading through the case notes once more. "Lots of rumours and coincidences but nothing we can pin on the Butchers. I hate to say it, but I don't know where we go from here." She pushed her hair back from her face.

"Maybe this mystery man of yours will have something, ma'am." Barker took a swig of beer. "Should we try fingerprints from that card?" The sergeant was a devotee of forensics and watched _CSI_ and _Silent Witness_ avidly, soaking up the methods the fictional experts used, and attempted to apply them to his own work. Unfortunately, in the real world, budget constraints applied and he rarely got the chance to pursue his ideas.

"Bit late now. I've handled it and so have you." Gwen liked Barker and didn't want to dampen his enthusiasm but he had to learn. "We'll go to this place, get there a bit early, and see what happens. It may be something, it may not." She was not getting her hopes up.

Another ring at the front door interrupted her and once again she was surprised when Martin answered it. Had Rhys said something to him? She made a point of giving the kids privacy when they talked to their dad. Or was Martin angling for something? Money or some concession from her perhaps. Gwen stood and went to the door, looking out into the hall.

"Hello, Annie," she said, walking out to greet her neighbour, "this is very good of you."

"Not a problem, dear. I can knit in your house as well as I can in mine." Ann Preston smiled and dimples appeared in her lined cheeks as she held up her work bag. She was in her late sixties, a widow retired from a nursing career and whose children lived away leaving her with a lot of time on her hands. Her hand-knitted jumpers adorned most of the smaller neighbourhood kids and she had made an Aran jacket for Gwen that was still giving good service.

"It's still good of you," repeated Gwen, coming through the hall and following her guest into the sitting room. A quick scan revealed the usual shabby furniture but it was tidy. "Cup of tea?"

"You're busy, Gwen dear, that's why I'm here. I'll make myself one later." Ann settled in the arm chair and rummaged in her bag for her knitting. "Izzy upstairs, is she?"

"Yeah. She's doing her homework and then it'll be practice. Martin's off out soon," she added, wondering why he hadn't left yet. He was back on the sofa looking at the television.

"That's fine then. You go off and catch the bad guys."

"Okay."

At 7.33 Gwen and Terry Barker were sitting in her nondescript Volvo estate four hundred metres down the road from the row of lock up garages that were the address given her by the mysterious Captain Jack Harkness. This part of Grangetown was marked for redevelopment and until then it was a mix of semi-industrial and residential buildings, all of it run down. Barker had checked out the address earlier and found the names of the owners of the six garages, none of which were known to the police and with nothing to link any of them to the Butchers. Langer hadn't mentioned the garages. Ten minutes went by with no movement bar a mangy cat which slinked past the garage doors and a man walking his dog.

"Think he'll show, ma'am?" asked Barker, his fingers drumming on his thigh to some inner rhythm.

"No idea. Just keep your eyes peeled." Gwen disliked not being in control and was shorter with him than normal.

Five minutes later the back door of her car opened and Jack climbed in. "Always liked people who are punctual."

"Oy, what do you think you're doing?" she demanded, turning to glare at him. Beside her, Barker twisted round then made to open his door. "Wait, Terry. Well?"

"Better if we talk in here," replied Jack with a smile, "less people to see us."

"Who are you?" asked Barker. He had a restricted view of the man as Jack was immediately behind him. "And don't say Harkness, we know that's not your name."

"My name doesn't matter to you. Gwen, I assume you've found the names of the owners of the garages." He was sitting back, wedged into the corner against the door and had an uninterrupted view of her through the gap between the headrests. She had aged badly and was obviously not taking care of herself. Her demanding job and dysfunctional family had taken a toll on the woman he remembered so well. She didn't smile enough; even when chasing Weevils she'd managed a smile or two.

"Yes." She regarded him coolly, wondering why he used her forename so casually and why it seemed right that he should. "What about it?"

"They're a front for the Butchers. Manny Goldstein, for instance, is their father's foster brother and Gladys Pugh is the mother of one of James's ex-girlfriends. They let the cousins use their names and get a 'present' for their trouble."

"I see." Gwen turned to gaze to Barker, wondering why he hadn't found the connection. "And you know this how, Captain Harkness?"

He grinned. "I have my methods. In half an hour or so Peter Butcher will be here to set up for a delivery. James will join him not long after with their tame engineer. They've got a Jaguar XJR coming in. It's currently," he checked his wrist strap scanner, "leaving Bristol."

"I think you'd better explain yourself a bit more."

"Happy to but you might want to call in some backup. Assuming you want to catch them red-handed, that is."

Gwen watched Jack, weighing his words. He was confident, sure of himself and of his information. Did she trust him? No. Could she afford to ignore him? Also no. If there was a chance of getting the Butchers she had to take it. "Terry, get some uniforms but tell them to stay out of sight until we give the word. Now," she turned back to Jack, "start talking."

The operation was ridiculously simple in the end. The Butchers turned up just as Jack had predicted and fifteen minutes later the Jag – still with its original number plates in place - had driven up and stopped outside garage number forty five. When the car was inside, Gwen and her people moved in and nabbed the lot. Peter Butcher made a run for it but was caught by a couple of uniforms before he got far. Inside the garages, which had been knocked into one, Gwen found a Porsche and enough paperwork to keep her busy for days. Her only irritation was that Jack Harkness disappeared in the confusion and no one saw him go. It didn't matter for the case – she had already seen enough to know it was solid – but she wanted to know more about him.

At 11.00 she left the station with the congratulations of her Superintendent still ringing in her ears – both Butchers were in the cells along with their accomplices and would wait until morning. Driving through the dark streets, she consciously relaxed and was smiling when she drew up outside her own house. Martin's car was missing but there was a light in the front downstairs window where Ann Preston would be knitting. Gwen opened the front door and went straight into the sitting room.

"Annie, thanks so much for hanging on I -" She stopped speaking when she saw that Annie was not alone.

"Jack has been telling me about the raid tonight," said Ann with a delighted chuckle. She was simpering at the handsome American who had arrived an hour earlier. "Well done, dear."

"Thanks." Gwen put her bag on the side and stood looking down at Jack who was comfortably ensconced in an armchair. "Time I let you get off home," she told Ann.

"Oh yes, I expect you have lots to talk about." She put her knitting in her bag, giggling when Jack stood up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. "Thank you, dear."

"My pleasure." Jack beamed at her and then at Gwen.

"I'll see you out. I hope Izzy was no trouble."

"None at all, such a nice girl. Night!" She walked down the path and crossed the road, waving when she reached her own door and went inside. This was their ritual; Gwen always stood and watched to make sure Annie got indoors safely.

When Gwen finally shut the door she was no nearer deciding what to do about Harkness. He didn't seem like an intruder and yet she had not invited him in and still knew nothing about him. Was she mad not to call for help? Probably, and yet she still didn't use her mobile – in a pocket of the jacket she was wearing - to summon assistance. She found him looking at the half dozen photographs on the side unit. They were mostly the kids at various ages but there were a couple of her and Rhys as well.

"Want a coffee?" she asked, putting her jacket over the back of the couch.

"Umm. What happened with Rhys?" he asked, a picture of the four of them taken just before the breakup in his hand.

"A lot of things. The job, the -" She stopped and stared at him. "How do you know Rhys?"

"I'll tell you over that coffee."

-ooOoo-

Gwen sat and stared at Jack across the kitchen table. Their coffee had been drunk long before, when he had been halfway through telling her a complete cock and bull story about alternate realities and aliens, and she was fiddling with her lighter considering whether to have another cigarette. It was half an hour past midnight and a cigarette now could be counted among her quota for the new day.

"So, there you have it," Jack concluded. "That's who I am and why I'm here."

"You tell a good tale, Harkness, but that's all it is." She resolutely put the lighter down determined not to smoke any more before morning. "A tale for gullible idiots."

He laughed softly. "No. If I really wanted to take you in I'd have made it more believable. Is there nothing that rings a bell?"

"Nothing."

"Any weird dreams? Things you can't explain?" He watched her closely but she was giving nothing away. A woman toughened by life and her career. It distressed Jack that there was even one Gwen in the many realities that was not the enthusiastic, caring and vital woman he knew.

"No."

He sighed. "Okay. I'll leave you to get to bed then." He stood and walked into the sitting room, reaching for his greatcoat that was hanging over the back of a chair.

Following, she watched him put the coat on and walk to the front door. She was determined to give nothing away to this stranger. Not yet anyway. At the open door, he stopped and turned to face her.

"Just one thing you may like to think on," he said, in the same conversational tone he had used throughout. "You barely know me and have every reason to distrust me. Yet you acted on my tip and let me stay in your home where your young daughter is sleeping. All without a murmur of protest. Why do you trust me?" Turning up his coat collar against the rain, he headed off down the path.

Gwen closed the door and leant against it for several minutes. He was right, she did trust him and had never for a moment seriously considered that he would hurt her or Isabel. Why? She couldn't explain it. But trusting him did not mean she believed a word he said. After clearing up the mugs and checking everywhere was secure – only the front door couldn't be bolted until Martin was in – she turned off all but the hall light and went upstairs.

Her bedroom was as shabby as the rest of the house and it was the one room she really wanted to change. There were too many reminders of Rhys here even after three years and she wondered why she had done nothing about it. She could get Martin to slap on a coat of paint, he had nothing else to do with his time, but she had hesitated to do it. Was she hoping Rhys would come back? Did she want him back? No to both questions, she decided. Until that moment she had not consciously admitted that to herself and a weight lifted from her shoulders. Rhys was not coming back. He was happy with Rita, a hairdresser who shared his passion for running marathons, his girlfriend for the past ten months and yet she – Gwen – had not moved on. It was time to ditch the past. Lying in bed, she planned what she would do to the room and to the house as a whole. With Rhys' child support and her own salary she had enough for some cosmetic changes at least. Motivating Martin might be more difficult but he was obviously bored. If she nagged him enough he'd come round. Ten minutes later she was sleeping soundly.

The alarm woke her at 7.00 and she surfaced groggily from a dream where a man had a big spike for an arm and nuclear bombs were about to go off. There was a black woman with a spike too and the man Harkness was there as well. She pulled herself up into a sitting position and took a moment to reorient herself. The dream faded slightly but she could still remember bits of it which surprised her, normally they disappeared entirely within minutes. However, she didn't have time to reflect on it any further; there was a lot to be done before she went to work.

"Got everything, Izzy?" she asked when her daughter was eating her breakfast. "Need your clarinet today?"

"No." The brown-haired girl shook her head as she texted to her friends. "Orchestra practice is tomorrow. And so is Games, is my kit clean?"

"It's in the wash now." Gwen's first job of the day was to put on a load of washing and by keeping the kitchen door open the noise usually helped rouse Isabel. "I was thinking, we ought to redecorate. Want your room done?"

"Yeah," said the girl enthusiastically. "It's way too babyish now."

"Surprised you can tell with all those posters." The walls of Isabel's room were covered with posters of her favourite pop and film stars.

"Mam," the girl replied in a long-suffering tone. "Can I choose? I'd like lilac." She put the last of her toast and jam into her mouth.

"That sounds all right. I'll talk to Martin about doing it then we can go to -"

"Martin! I want to do it myself."

Gwen smiled, pleased to see her daughter enthusiastic about something other than her music. "All right. You can help with down here too." She gestured round the kitchen/diner which was a faded blue with terribly dated stencils of flowers around the top of the walls. "We'll talk about it more tonight."

"Okay. I'll go in that DIY place on my way home and get some charts." She stood up when the front doorbell rang. "That'll be Tommy." Donning her jacket, she grabbed her bag and headed down the hall. "See you."

"Have a good day, Izzy." The front door opened and then slammed as Isabel left for school with her friend.

Gwen spent the next hour tidying up and getting ready for work. For the first time in months, she blow-dried her hair properly and applied some makeup. Martin was still asleep when she looked in on him so she contented herself with opening a window to let in some air to the stale smelling room. Her last task was to empty the washing machine and put the contents on the clothes horse to dry. She left the house at 9.05 and hummed along to the radio on the journey into work.

-ooOoo-

The morning was busy following-up the arrest of the Butchers the night before. Terry Barker, who had been working most of the night overseeing the search of both Butchers' houses, and two of the DCs had started sorting the papers and going through the computers they'd seized. Even at this early stage, there was sufficient evidence of the theft ring to secure a conviction. Gwen looked through some of it herself, authorised the detention of a couple more of the minor members of the gang and then called the CPS and arranged a meeting for later that day to go over the case. It was always better to get the prosecutors on side early in the process. At 10.55 Gwen found herself in the dreary confines of the interview room once more with Barker alongside her facing Peter Butcher and his solicitor.

"Mr Butcher, you know what you're here for. What have you got to say for yourself?"

Peter Butcher glanced at his solicitor, an old hand who had represented the cousins many times, and then at Gwen. "Not much point in denying it," he admitted. "Though I'd like to know who told you about the lock ups." His voice and face were expressionless but the threat to the snitch was evident. Butcher was a wiry man of medium height who was handy with his fists or a knife and those who worked for him were careful not to get on his bad side. He had a mean temper.

Gwen met his gaze steadily, she'd seen too much to be intimidated by this petty thief. The only man who had really frightened her was a serial rapist who had sat in this same room and calmly related his crimes in great detail without a shred of remorse for his victims. She'd been a DS then with a lot less experience but even now the memory could make her shudder.

"Let's hear it then, Peter," she said ignoring his jibe about a snitch. "Start with the Jag from last night. Who ordered it and where'd you get it from?" She folded her hands on the table and listened as he started to talk.

The interview continued for an hour and a half when Gwen called a halt. Butcher had admitted to all he had done himself but was not giving up his buyers. That didn't surprise her but she hoped the search through the computers would give them something. After checking her desk, she went up another floor to the canteen to clear her head before interviewing James Butcher.

Sitting by the window with a bottle of water and a tuna salad – it was time she ate more sensibly - she checked her mobile and found the usual voice mail message from Isabel. But this one was different, a bubbly chat about colour schemes for her bedroom (she now wanted yellow). Gwen texted her back and returned to her salad. She was halfway through it and wondering if anyone, anywhere in the world, really enjoyed eating lettuce when someone sat opposite her.

"Hello, Gwen. You look good." Jack smiled at her, his hands loosely clasped on the table in front of him.

She regarded him in silence for a moment, chewing slowly before swallowing, then said, "How did you get in here?" The police station was supposed to be secure with keypads on all doors and men posted on the public entrance.

He shrugged. "You didn't come out for a smoke. Butcher case okay?"

"Yes, thanks." She sipped some water watching him closely. "Peter's trying to figure out who told us about the garages. You may want to be careful."

"He can't hurt me. Besides, he's never heard of me."

"No one has, you don't exist." She looked around the room and wondered if she should call some of the officers sitting at the tables to detain Harkness. Giving up the idea, she took another forkful of salad.

Jack saw the movement and interpreted it correctly. "You see, you do trust me. More than you trust anyone else. And I trust you."

"What is you want?"

"I explained last night."

"So you did."

The silence grew between them as Gwen continued to eat her meal. Jack settled back to watch her and bide his time. She would want to know more, the Gwen Cooper he knew was always curious and dogged in getting to the bottom of things. This Gwen Williams may be older and less open, but she was essentially still the same woman.

"I had a dream last night," she said eventually, pushing away her plate. "People with spikes in their arms." The image was still clear in her mind, as was the feeling of terror.

"Cell 114. A race of aliens who infiltrated Earth with sleeper agents. The spikes are weapons and they almost destroyed Cardiff by getting to a secret stash of nuclear bombs." He smiled. "I was really cross with the MOD when I found they'd been hiding them on my patch."

"The black woman. She … I wasn't frightened of her."

"No. You befriended her, without that we'd never have defeated them. You're good at that."

Gwen sat back and watched him. He sounded so … honest, so sincere and she did trust him. Why did she trust him on such slight acquaintance? It was so unlike her. Her training and her experience of life had told her to be wary of people she didn't know and it took a long time for someone to become a trusted friend. But this man - who was hiding behind an alias and had links to a criminal gang - had managed to gain her confidence in hours in the most unusual circumstances. It didn't make sense.

"All this stuff you told me, it's … like the _X-Files_."

"Hey, I'm better looking than Mulder!" Jack affected being hurt by the comment before becoming serious. "But if I was him, you're my Scully. My second in command and the one I rely on."

"The one who always wants proof."

"Oh yeah. All the time, it's very wearing."

She chuckled and drank some more of her water. "You really expect me to believe that I'm two people."

"Same person, two different versions. In my reality, you're twenty nine years old, engaged to Rhys Williams and boring us rigid with your wedding plans. In this one, you're divorced with kids and starting to wonder if this is all life has to offer."

"And your Gwen just … jumped into my body." Gwen's body language showed she was far from convinced. "Damned inconsiderate of her."

"It was that or dying. My Gwen's a fighter."

Taking a final sip of the water, Gwen screwed the cap back in place and placed the empty bottle on the table. She remembered being that young and enthusiastic, positive that she had to grab hold on life and live every moment as if it was going to be her last. Twenty years of grind in the police force with its rules and regulations constraining her every move had made her cynical and her unsuccessful home life depressed her. If this man, this charismatic man, had come along and offered her a chance of something new, something exciting, when she was in her twenties she'd have jumped at the chance. Could it be true that she had done just that? In this alternate reality that he spoke of, was she still keen and eager to amass new experiences?

"Gwen, will you just keep an open mind? I know it's hard to believe what I've told you but trust your instincts, I've never known them to let you down." He reached across and snagged one her hands in his. "Meet me tomorrow. Two o'clock at Nico's, the coffee shop in the Bay."

"Why?"

"Please, Gwen, just come." He squeezed her hand and let it go. "I'll leave you to get on." With that he was gone, walking through the canteen like he owned it and disappearing through the swing doors.

Gwen watched him go already considering how to carve out time to go to his meeting without telling anyone what she was doing.

* * *

_Next time, the team get together at Nico's ..._


	6. Nico's

_Jack finally gets his team together ..._

* * *

**Hide and Seek**

Chapter Six: Nico's

The coffee shop was on Roald Dahl Plass next to the Millennium Centre, well situated to attract tourists who flocked to the Bay and a regular haunt of office and other workers. The staff at the nearby National Assembly Office had made it a particular favourite and two large tables at the back were permanently reserved for them from 12.00 to 2.00 every weekday.

Ianto Jones, the first to arrive this Wednesday afternoon, stood outside looking in through the glass window. The tables were spread around in the large space and about half were occupied but he could not see Jack Harkness. Ianto checked his watch again and scanned the few tables outside where tourists were content to endure the blustery wind so they could admire the view of the water tower and Pierhead Building. Jack was not at these tables either.

"Come and have a coffee until she arrives."

"What?" Ianto started at being addressed. He was already nervous at the thought of meeting Jack again after their previous encounters and wondering whether he was being foolish. Was Jack going to show up? Had it all been a trick?

"I said, come in and have a coffee. Your date will find you."

"It's not a date," Ianto protested, "it's work." Actually he had no idea what to call this meeting and was wishing he had not been persuaded to come.

"Whatever. Come in out of the wind." The man entered the coffee shop, a tray of dirty crockery in his hands. "We don't bite."

Feeling even more of a fool, Ianto followed him. The chrome tables and chairs were plentiful and spread around leaving plenty of space between them. Everything was very clean, from the tiled floor to the dark brown painted walls on which hung generic prints and a large mirror. The counter was large with sections for soft drinks and snacks as well as piled cups and saucers. Behind it a large, meticulously clean coffee machine gleamed. The smell of roasting coffee hung in the air. Ianto turned his attention to the man who had spoken to him. He was around five eight and probably in his thirties. His hair was plentiful, very black and glossy and would have reached his shoulders if it had been let out of its current ponytail. He wore the coffee shop uniform of black trousers and white shirt covered with a red apron on which the Nico's logo was discreetly embroidered. His accent gave him away as Australian.

Going to the counter, Ianto waited while the man deposited the tray in the back then returned to serve. Face to face, Ianto found himself staring into deep brown eyes with small green flecks that glinted in the overhead lights. "Espresso, please."

"Sure. Any particular blend?" The man indicated the list on the counter.

"The Mocha Djimma." Ianto felt he had passed a test when the man – Brad according to his name tag – raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Good choice. Anything to go with it?" Brad went to the huge machine behind him and measured out the coffee, his movements economical and practiced.

"No, thanks." Ianto watched as the brewed coffee dribbled out, admiring the skill and wondering why he'd not found this coffee shop before. He knew most of them in the city. "You been open long?"

"A month." Brad turned and placed the cup on the saucer he'd placed there ready and added a spoon. "This your first time? I don't remember seeing you in here before." _And I would remember,_ he implied.

"I don't get down this way much." Ianto reached for his wallet, trying not to blush.

"No, mate, on the house."

"Are you sure? Won't the boss object?" Ianto looked around but the only staff in sight was a young woman clearing tables.

"I am the boss."

"Oh, sorry. Then, thanks." He took the cup to a table at the side of the room and sat facing the door and the large glass windows. The coffee smelt delicious and had a thick crema. He sprinkled sugar on top and watched as it floated for a few seconds before sinking into the liquid. The coffee tasted as good as it looked and Ianto was impressed.

A couple of minutes later, Jack walked through the door in the company of a dark-haired woman. He spotted Ianto and steered the woman over to the table. "Ianto, you're early. This is Gwen. Gwen, Ianto. What would you like to drink, Gwen?"

"Cappuccino, please." She removed her jacket and sat in a chair opposite Ianto as Jack went off to the counter. "So, you supposed to be from another reality too?" she asked bluntly.

He nodded. "Mad idea, right?"

"Oh yeah. Couldn't seem to stop myself coming though."

"Nor me." Ianto sipped his coffee and studied the woman, taking in her unflattering clothes. She needed a makeover, as Max would say. He felt a pang of conscience; he had to decide what to do about Max. "What do you do?"

"Police officer. You?" She pegged him as a middle manager in an office and was not surprised when he said he was an accountant. "Ever wanted to hunt aliens?"

"Not high on my list of career choices."

They were laughing when Jack returned with the coffees. "Good, you two are getting on." He removed his coat and bundled it up to go on a spare chair.

"Don't do that!" Ianto stood and took the coat, shaking it out before hanging it on a peg on the wall next to his own. He reddened slightly when he caught Jack's amused grin and tried to hide it as he resumed his seat.

"So what are we here for?" asked Gwen, sipping the cappuccino and getting a blob of froth on the end of her nose. She wiped at it with a napkin, immune to embarrassment after having two kids to poke fun at her ever since they could talk.

"To meet." Jack smiled at them both, delighted to have achieved this much. Half his team was back together, now he just wanted the others to show up. Toshiko was on her way but he was less confident Owen would show. When he had called to invite the doctor, Owen had invented a number of reasons why he couldn't come to the meeting. Only time would tell if curiosity overcame his objections. "We'll wait for the others."

"And they are?"

"You'll see."

There was an awkward silence as the three of them sat, occasionally sipping their drinks. Ianto felt it the most and frantically tried to think of something to say. "I had another dream. About malevolent fairies stealing away a little girl."

"Fairies? I had one a bit like that." Gwen leant forward, her forearms on the table. "They were big and green and killed people."

"Mine were like that too." They stared at one another then turned to look at Jack.

"We encountered some and, yes, I did have to let them take a girl. Jasmine. I couldn't stop them." His voice was bleak as he remembered Estelle who he had also been unable to save from the fairies. "They'd have killed everyone if I hadn't."

Gwen considered this, analysing his words. He appeared to believe what he said but that had been the case when he'd told the rest of his outlandish tale. Turning her attention to the other man – Ianto, she remembered - he appeared to have had the same dream as her. How was that possible? Could he and Jack be working together to bamboozle her? But why? What could possibly be worth all this effort?

"Jack." Toshiko Sato strode up to the table, Rupak Moitra walking a pace behind her. "I'm sorry we're a bit late. Rupak couldn't find anywhere to park." She glanced at the others sitting at the table. Were these the missing team members?

"Tosh, good to see you," said Jack standing up to hug the new arrival. He nodded a greeting at Rupak. "Let me introduce you. Toshiko Sato, this is Ianto Jones and Gwen Cooper."

"Williams," corrected Gwen. "Haven't been Cooper for years." She shook hands with the newcomer.

"Hello," nodded Ianto.

"And this is my colleague, Rupak Moitra," responded Toshiko, pulling him into the group.

After a short pause, Jack rubbed his hands together. "How about some coffee?" he asked.

"A latte, please," said Rupak pulling out a chair.

"I don't know, never been anywhere like this before." Toshiko was looking round her with interest. "Normally I just have what I'm given."

"Then come with me," replied Jack with a smile, threading her arm through his and leading her to the counter. "You can choose."

The three sitting at the table smiled at one another but said nothing for several minutes. It was Gwen who broke the silence. "You both from this other reality?" she asked Rupak.

"No. Just Toshiko."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Jack told me not to tell anyone."

"And me. Why are you different?" asked Gwen. She found it hard to categorise the Indian – another accountant?

"I helped Toshiko bring Jack into this reality," he explained. "Toshiko is … not always very practical. Brilliant, but not practical."

"Bring him here? I don't understand."

Rupak regarded Gwen for a moment as he thought about how to respond. "Perhaps he should explain."

"What's she brilliant at?" queried Ianto.

"Electrical mechanics, computer science and specifically positronics as applied to the creation of artificial intelligence. She's the leader in the field, has a Chair at Oxford and is the recipient of many prestigious prizes."

"Really." Gwen did not know what else to say. The Japanese woman had appeared a little slow – how could anyone never have been in a coffee shop? – not brilliant. The memory of a break-in at Cardiff University returned to her; the professor she had interviewed then had been incredibly vague. Perhaps it was a stereotype that had a basis in reality. "And you work with her?"

"Yes, have done for over ten years now." The discussion ended as Jack and Toshiko returned.

"Here, Rupak, your latte. It looks very nice." Toshiko put the drink down in front of him and pulled a chair from another table to sit between him and Gwen. "Thank you, Jack." Her own cappuccino was placed on the table in front of her. "This one looked so pretty I had to try it," she smiled at them.

Ianto regarded Toshiko curiously. Another woman with no dress sense, in her fifties at least and yet she was acting like a schoolgirl. Surely it was impossible that anyone her age had not seen or tasted a cappuccino? Or was it Jack that was making her so giggly? What had he promised her? Had he slept with her too? And with the policewoman? They had arrived together. This thought depressed and surprised him. Jack was gay, he had incontrovertible proof of that, why should he, Ianto, have thought Jack would also sleep with women? He frowned into his now empty coffee cup.

While Ianto sat in silence fiddling with his spoon, the others at the table were chatting about the journey from Oxford and Toshiko and Rupak's first impressions of Cardiff. "It's so muddily," said Toshiko forcefully. "Lots of modern buildings and hidden among them a Castle and neo-classical museums."

"Oxford mixes old and new too," commented Rupak calmly.

"But not like this. It's as if someone put them all in a bag and shook them up." She would have gone but caught a warning frown on Rupak's face that meant she was about to offend someone and should shut up. "This bit's nice," she added finally.

"The Bay's been redeveloped recently." Gwen smiled as she spoke then looked at her watch, making a point of being seen doing it. "How much longer, Captain? I have work to do."

"Me too," added Ianto, dropping the spoon into the saucer with a clatter.

"I was hoping …" Jack let the thought tail off, gazing out of the windows in the hope of seeing Owen. He was nowhere in sight. "There's one more person to come. If he's not here in five minutes, we'll carry on without him."

"All right, but only five." Gwen sighed heavily and stared into the distance.

"Can I take some of these cups away?" asked Brad appearing at Ianto's shoulder. He reached across, managing to brush against the Welshman's arm. "Want any more?"

"I'll have another," said Gwen handing her cup to Brad.

"Me too," added Ianto, smiling up at the Australian. "Jack?"

"Why not?" He quickly finished the one he had in front of him; more drinks meant more time for Owen to appear.

"Same again?" They nodded. "Won't be a jiffy." Brad smiled and walked off, balancing the cups expertly.

Jack's gaze followed the man and he noticed Ianto doing the same. "Nice arse, huh?"

Ianto stifled a denial and grinned instead. "Yes."

Gwen, always watchful, heard the exchange. She wasn't surprised that Ianto was gay but she had not expected it of Jack who seemed to be much like other hetero blokes she knew. Glancing at the others, she decided Rupak was soft on Toshiko who appeared oblivious. Gwen's own sex life was non-existent. An odd date when well-meaning friends set her up with a single or divorced acquaintance had been her lot for the past three years. And not all of them had ended in a shag. Perhaps it was time to do something about it. Rhys had his Rita, time for her to find someone too. There was always Andy Davidson who had been interested when they were in uniform together and still sniffed about occasionally. She resolved to look him up soon; he was still single.

"Did you bring everything with you?" asked Jack, talking to Toshiko across Gwen who was seated between them.

"It's in the back of Rupak's car. We only just got it all in."

The generator had taken up most of the room and they'd needed the two students to help load it and the projectors. Toshiko and Rupak had packed up the other equipment – including the two boxes they'd made on Jack's instructions – and finally included two laptops, spare batteries and all the necessary connections. Rupak had also insisted on including overnight bags in case they were unable to get back to Oxford the same day. Toshiko had enjoyed the drive. They had set off early as Rupak was not a fast driver and come off the M4 to have lunch at a small pub he had found on the Internet. Cardiff city centre had been busy and confusing but they had followed the sat-nav instructions and arrived at the Bay unscathed only to have to circle round a time or two until they came across a car park with spaces.

"Great." Jack caught Gwen looking at him questioningly. "I'll explain later."

"I rather expected you'd say that." She rolled her eyes.

At that moment the bell above the door sounded and Jack looked round, relieved at the interruption and at seeing Owen Harper standing just inside. "Ah, you made it," said Jack, bouncing up and going forward to pull the doctor to the table. He did not want Owen to change his mind and leave. "Everyone, this is Owen Harper."

"Doctor Owen Harper," the newcomer corrected, standing looking back at the four faces regarding him. They were a motley group, he thought, as he undid his jacket.

"Sorry. This is Ianto Jones, Rupak Moitra, Toshiko Sato and Gwen Coop … Williams," he introduced, going round the table. "Take a chair and let me get you a coffee. What will you have?"

"Americano, please. Look, I don't have long and - "

"You have long enough to drink a cup of coffee." Jack pushed him down into the spare chair between Ianto and Rupak just as Brad returned with the second round of drinks.

"I'll get the Americano," Brad drawled, setting down the tray. Jack walked back with him to pay the bill.

There was another uncomfortable silence as the five sorted out the drinks and glanced at one another surreptitiously while trying not to be obvious. Toshiko smiled at the newcomer, quite prepared to like everyone Jack included in the group, and sipped her cappuccino which she was enjoying immensely. It was she who broke the silence.

"So you're one of us too. I think it's incredible, the thought that there's actually two of me in this body. Well, not two people physically, of course, but the memories and consciousness of two people. The human brain is marvellous, simply marvellous if it can adapt so easily. I had no idea until Jack explained what these strange dreams of mine meant."

"Before you arrived Ianto and I were talking," put in Gwen, "about a dream we appear to have in common. About fairies." She said no more, wanting to see how Toshiko and this Owen reacted.

"Fairies? Umm, I don't remember one like that. I did have one about some rather violent goblins. Big green things with wings."

"Sounds like the same thing." Gwen caught Ianto nodding in agreement. "How about you, Dr Harper?"

He sat warily watching the other four. The dream was familiar to him, it had frightened him at the time, but he was not sure he wanted to admit that to these people. They were a very mixed bunch. The man beside him had not yet opened his mouth and was probably an insignificant member of the 'team' Jack spoke of and the Indian was similarly silent. But the women were more forceful, especially the one with the gap between her front teeth. He realised everyone was looking at him waiting for an answer.

"I have a vague recollection of something along those lines. There was a girl who was … taken." He looked up as Jack returned and placed the coffee on the table. "Thank you."

"There was, you're right," agreed Toshiko with a grin. "So we all remember it."

"I think you'll find the memories of your other selves – the ones from my reality – asserting themselves more now," said Jack having heard enough of the previous exchange to understand what they were talking about. "It's part of what's going to destroy this world unless I take my people back."

They stared at him.

-ooOoo-

"I think it would help us all, Jack, if you summarised the position once more," suggested Rupak. For the past half an hour he, like the others, had listened to Jack's explanation of the circumstances that had brought him to this reality. It was a fantastic tale.

"Okay." Jack looked round and saw a willingness to believe on everyone's face but Owen's; he was still in denial. "There are an infinite number of realities in the universe. Some things remain constant in each of them but other things are different, sometimes the complete opposite. For example, in my reality Earth has had contact with alien life forms and devised defences to protect the planet and its people. Torchwood is part of the defence and we – with the exception of you, Rupak – are in the front line."

"And these differences occur when decisions are made?" asked Toshiko, her brow furrowed as she listened intently.

"Yes," agreed Jack, simplifying the position. "Not every decision every person makes but some of the larger ones. Travel between the realities is very rare but possible in certain circumstances. In my reality, those circumstances were created when an alien used the power of the Rift coupled with his own device to return home and caught you four," he looked round the table, "in the backwash. You were taken into the Rift and deposited here. As you already existed in this reality, you melded together."

"That's balderdash." Owen was adamant on this point. "I have X-rays and scans taken over the past few years which show I am one person."

"It does seem a bit odd," added Ianto. He was sitting back in his chair idly running a finger over the raised pattern of the table.

"You were a perfect match so there's nothing to show up on scans. The only difference was your memories which were buried deep. They only surfaced when I showed up."

"And disrupted our lives." Gwen was staring at him intently. "I was perfectly happy before you appeared." Jack raised an eyebrow and she lowered her gaze; she had not been happy at all.

"I know. But the existence of four extra ... consciousnesses in this reality is upsetting the balance of time and will be the catalyst for a massive event." Jack looked round them cautiously, wondering how they would react to the information he was about to impart. "If I leave things as they are, leave you here, this world will be devastated by a race of aliens called Cybermen." He saw Ianto start in surprise. "Ianto?"

"I … That name … it made me feel frightened."

"It would." Jack placed a reassuring hand on Ianto's arm, deciding not to say anything more unless pressed. "The Cybermen are virtually unstoppable and will wipe out human life on this planet."

"An alien attack? When's that likely to happen?" Toshiko was fascinated.

"Sometime in the next six months unless you – the four of you who belong with me – leave here."

"This is disturbing news, Jack," said Rupak. "How are you aware of the future?"

"You'd never believe it so I'm not going to try and explain," he said with a smile. "But then I guess all of what I've told you is pretty unbelievable."

"You can say that again," muttered Owen. He wondered why he was the only one of the group not taken in by this fast-talking man.

"And yet you're all here. And that's because deep down you recognise the truth of what I'm saying." He look at each of them and saw them admit it to themselves. "As to knowing the future ... When I was searching for you all I researched this reality using technology you can only dream of and saw the consequences which is why I'm here."

Jack fell silent, remembering reviving in an empty Hub and the days of frantic searching once he discovered the rest of the team had been taken into another reality. Cannibalising equipment and acquiring more from UNIT, he opened a window through which he established they were alive. The power drain was massive – almost blacking out South Wales - and he could only watch for short periods but that was enough to get glimpses into their lives. When he saw they were well and happy it had been a relief but also sobering. Should he allow them to continue to live happily away from the stresses and strains of Torchwood? Away from alien threat they had a chance of happiness. He continued to watch, adjusting the view to jump forward in time and seen twenty years of normal relationships develop for them all.

But when he went another ten years ahead Earth had been devastated by Cybermen and the population converted. Without UNIT, Torchwood and The Doctor to defend the planet there had been nothing to stop them. More calculations and fevered research showed that it was the presence of the four Torchwood personnel that created an anomaly large enough to allow the Cybermen to find and destroy Earth in this reality. Jack realised that it was not selfishness on his part to bring back his team; doing so would save a world from destruction. Creating the holographic link to Oxford and Toshiko took yet more time and even more power; he blacked out Cardiff for twenty four hours. With her help he had made the transition to the new reality and now he had to take his team back home.

"Assuming any of this has any basis in reality," began Gwen deliberately, "what exactly do you want us to do?"

"Come back with me. I can take you, the versions of you that belong in my reality, back to where you belong. Where you'll continue to do a fantastic job of saving Cardiff from alien threat while the other versions of you, the ones who belong here, will continue their lives. They won't remember anything about this and the Cybermen won't come. But I need you to trust me, to take a jump into the unknown."

Jack hoped he had said enough. At the end of the day it all came down to whether they trusted him, believed what he said, because he didn't want to force them. He believed he had connected with these versions of his team. He hoped so, for their sakes and for his; he did not want to lose them.

Ianto looked up, a glint in his eye. He was strangely drawn to Jack and was loath to lose him. The relationship with Max was rocky ever since that Sunday night which they had spent with other partners. They were excruciatingly polite to one another now and had not had sex for two days, an unheard of occurrence. Neither had mentioned separating but Ianto could see the writing on the wall. He wanted to go with Jack and explore their relationship. If that meant fighting aliens then so be it, his other self could fathom out what to do about Max.

Toshiko grinned. Since meeting Jack she had had more and more 'dreams' and delighted in what they had shown her. Her work at the university had consumed her thus far but some of the excitement had worn off. Working for Torchwood would give her unlimited access to incredible technology and new experiences every day. She revelled in the possibility of communicating with aliens. She looked apologetically at Rupak, her colleague and friend of many years, and was relieved to see understanding in his smiling face. Yet again, he had known her mind before she did herself and she hoped her other self would get closer to him.

Gwen considered Jack's proposal, weighing the pros and cons. Her life here was routine and mundane. Pressure of work meant she always felt inadequate as a mother – and had ruined her marriage – and worrying about her children meant her mind was not on her job. It was the catch-22 of all working mothers. Did she want to stay? Or did she want to try again in a new reality where those pressures were replaced with the thrill of hunting aliens? A new start was very appealing, especially with Rhys whom she still loved. Perhaps she'd be able to get the work-life balance right in that other reality. Her other self could sort out the mess she was leaving.

Owen had no doubts - he wanted to stay right where he was. His life was just as he wanted it. He had a beautiful wife that he loved, children he adored and a medical practice he had built up over the past decade. Chasing aliens and defending Earth was for someone else not him, especially as Jack had told him that he was single in that other reality. And yet ... If Jack was to be believed, and that was still a big 'if', this world was going to be destroyed. His family would be destroyed. How could he put them in danger if he loved them? If there was something he could do to protect them, he had to do it.

"Any more drinks?" asked Brad coming to the table once more. The group had been sitting talking for quite some time and while there was no pressure to free up the table, he had a business to run.

"Sounds like a good idea," said Jack. "Want another?" They agreed and placed their orders.

Gwen excused herself and went to the ladies where, after using the facilities, she checked her messages. Terry Barker was handling the follow-up work on the Butcher arrests efficiently and had merely sent updates. There was nothing from the children. Everyone was getting on very well without her which should have made her feel good but actually depressed her. When she rejoined the table, Jack and Owen had taken their drinks and were sitting at another table on the other side of the room.

"What's going on?" she asked, looking over at the two men.

"They wanted to talk privately," explained Ianto, keeping a wary on them too. "How do you feel about this idea?"

She couldn't think what to say so sipped her coffee instead. "I don't know. You?" she said finally.

"I think I'll go."

"Me too," added Toshiko, putting down her cup – a latte this time. "The technology Jack has available is out of this world," she laughed. "I want to get my hands on it. I can't go back to positronics and artificial intelligence now I know I could be jumping to new realities."

"Doesn't sound like we'd be doing that every day," pointed out Gwen. She felt sorry for Rupak who was going to be left behind. "Jack said it was rare."

"Even so, I'm going." Toshiko could feel Rupak's sorrow and deliberately did not look at him.

At the other table, Owen was explaining his concerns. "I love my life and my family, Captain. You said before that I was a 'swinger' in your reality. What's my life really like there?"

"Different. Katie dies before your wedding and that ... puts you off relationships for a bit. You play the field." Jack watched carefully to see how Owen reacted to this news. "Although you're starting to settle down now."

"God, that sounds bleak."

"You're an outstanding doctor. I've never know anyone able to analyse new life forms as well as you. Think of the challenges you'd have every day. No more runny noses and routine ailments, instead every case is different and unique. Plus, you'll be saving a lot more people than you can as a GP."

Owen studied his hands, thinking hard. "I can't imagine life without Katie and the children. If I stay …" he found he couldn't complete the question.

"They'll be destroyed. Even if only you stay and the others come back with me." Jack sympathised, he had lost families of his own and knew how it felt, but he needed to persuade Owen to return to his reality.

"I can't do anything that would hurt them." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "All right."

"Let's go join the others." Jack led the way back to the original table. Sitting down again, he looked round at them all. "Are we going to do this?"

"Yes," came from Toshiko.

"Count me in," added Gwen.

"Yeah," said Ianto with a smile.

Owen hesitated and then looked Jack in the eye. "Yes."

-ooOoo-

The warehouse was one Jack had found on nighttime wanderings through the city. It was in a backstreet in an as yet undeveloped part of Cardiff Docks and, like the neighbouring buildings, had been empty for some time. The four cars clustered just inside the roll door were small in the vast space. Jack and Toshiko were busy setting up equipment on the open tailgate of Rupak's estate car and the floor around it while the others watched. The silence was broken only by the puttering of the generator which they'd left in the car.

"Okay, that's it," said Jack, straightening up. "Tosh will run one more simulation then we'll be ready to proceed."

"How? I mean, what's actually going to happen?" asked Gwen. She had become the team's unofficial spokeswoman, already assuming her role in Torchwood.

"We'll open a portal, a kind of energy door into the other reality. Each of you in turn will walk through which will separate your different selves. The one belonging to my reality will be back there."

"And the ones that belong here?" queried Owen.

"Will stay here. I'll put them in a light trance and remove their memories of me, give them new ones to cover the gaps in the last few days and then they'll drive out, back to their normal lives." Jack watched Owen who was obviously still unsure he wanted to go through this process.

Ianto was frowning. "One thing. What about our bodies? You say we're just a consciousness here. Are our other bodies back in the other reality?"

"No. It's complicated but, basically, when you arrived here this reality couldn't accept another Ianto Jones, great as having two of you would be! You were merged into the body that already existed and your other corporeal form was left in a kind of limbo between the two. By going through the portal you'll be reunited with it, put back in your other body. You'll be in your twenties again." He chuckled at Ianto's delighted expression. "Sorry, I should have explained, you're all twenty years younger in my reality."

This news affected them all differently. Gwen had already been told this and it was partly why she had agreed, she would have another chance at getting her life right. Toshiko looked up from the laptop, surprised but happily so. Owen merely nodded, too concerned about the life he was leaving behind.

The laptop beeped and Rupak, who was working with Toshiko, checked the screen. "The simulation is complete. It worked perfectly."

"Great." Jack rubbed his hands together. "Let's fire her up."

He stood alongside the two scientists as they made the final checks and connections. The projectors, set up a few feet away, were activated and the computer program began to run. All eyes were on the space between the projectors and there was a collective gasp when a flash of white light appeared, grew and resolved itself into a six foot high, four feet wide mass of twisting energy.

Jack leapt into action. "Right, time to go. This will only last for a few minutes. Gwen, you first." He reached a hand to her and, after a moment's hesitation, she took it and stepped up to stand beside the portal. "It's going to be fine," he assured her, staring deep into her eyes. "Just step through."

Taking one shuddering deep breath, and with a final look at the others, she released Jack's hand and walked through the light, closing her eyes against the glare. "Oh!" Gwen half fell out of the light and into Jack's arms.

"Didn't it work?" asked Toshiko anxiously before checking the laptop for errors.

"It worked. This is Gwen from this reality." He had an arm around her and was leading her to her car. The others watched as he sat her in the driving seat, placed a small device against her forehead and muttered some words while staring into her eyes. Then he moved away, slammed the car door and she drove off through the open door. Jack moved back to the group. "Owen, your turn."

In quick succession, Jack repeated the procedure with Owen, Ianto and finally Toshiko. When the Toshiko of this reality was sitting in Rupak's car, eyes closed and sleeping, Jack turned to Rupak.

"Is she all right?" asked Rupak, looked across at Toshiko.

"She's fine. She'll sleep for a couple of hours, long enough for you to pack up here after I've gone through the portal." Jack reached into his pocket and took out a small plastic bag with a white pill in it. "This is an amnesia pill. It'll make you forget the last few hours. Can I trust you to take it when you're done here?"

"Of course." Rupak reached out a hand and took the bag. "I won't do anything to hurt her."

"I know you won't. If I were you, I'd go straight to a hotel and book yourselves in for the night." Jack grinned, hoping the man would act on the suggestion. "Take the pill when you've checked in."

Rupak met Jack's gaze with a steady one of his own, understanding what he was being told. "I'm not sure …"

"I am. She cares for you and you love her. Tell her how you feel when she wakes up, she'll be more receptive then, and be happy together." Jack clapped the other man on the shoulder. "I have to go. Thank you, Rupak." He crossed the space to the portal in two long strides and with a final wave, stepped through.

* * *

_So, did they make it back to Cardiff? And what happened to the 'hosts' they left behind? The final chapter will explain all._


	7. Afterword

_And so we come to the end of the tale ..._

* * *

**Hide and Seek**

Afterword

It was Toshiko's idea.

The team had returned to Cardiff 2008 in their own reality and everything had fallen into place. They remembered the alien who had infiltrated the Hub and opened the Rift and taken them into it. They remembered their lives before and after joining Torchwood. And they also remembered the lives of their counterparts in the other reality, although Jack said these would fade and disappear altogether within forty eight hours. Each of them reacted to their experiences differently: Gwen went home to be with Rhys and revel in her love for him, determined not to lose it; Toshiko made copious notes of all she could recall about positronics and tried but failed to find a Rupak Moitra in this reality; Owen found a bar and stayed there until they threw him out when he went home and continued drinking; Ianto told UNIT to deal with emergencies and took Jack home with him.

It was the next day that Toshiko came to Jack's office in the early morning and sat in the visitor's chair and laid out her plan. He objected – strenuously – but she persisted and little by little her reasoned arguments overcame each of his objections. When they presented the plan to the others at the morning team meeting the reaction was mixed: Ianto was wary, Gwen supportive and Owen adamantly against. Again, Toshiko's calm and gentle reasoning overcame all obstacles and that afternoon the deed was done.

And so here was Jack, sitting in a coffee shop next to the Millennium Centre on Roald Dahl Plass. The Cybermen had not invaded and Nico's had not changed much in the year since he had last been in this alternate reality but there was a new face behind the counter.

Ianto Jones looked totally at home in his new role of barista and more relaxed than Jack had ever seen him. The Welshman had a hand on the arse of Brad, his partner in the business and in bed, and they were joking as Brad cleaned the coffee machine. Ianto had changed his life completely, leaving behind accountancy and the wilder gay scene – and Max - for a share in a good business and a settled relationship with one man.

There had been other changes for the better too.

In one corner of the shop, Gwen Williams sat with her daughter, Isabel. They were laughing together and enjoying a coffee and brownie each. Gwen was rested and relaxed, thinner and her hair was cut in a short bob that flattered her leaner face. She was wearing fashionable dark trousers with a red top and looked much like the Gwen Jack had left in the other reality. Her work life had hardly altered, the changes were in her private life. Martin, her son, had started a small painting and decorating business with financial help from his father, left behind his drug-taking friends and found a girlfriend. Isabel was thriving at school. Gwen was also in a steady relationship with her colleague, Andy Davidson, who at that moment returned from the gents.

Sitting at a neighbouring table, Professor Toshiko Sato was tapping furiously on her laptop as she and her husband, Dr Rupak Moitra, discussed the finer points of positronic development. It had been his idea to accept the invitation to lecture at the city's university and to extend their stay to include a weekend. They had visited the tourist sites but wherever they went, Toshiko's trusty laptop had gone with them and their conversation had turned to their work. Rupak did not mind, he loved his wife very much. For her part, Toshiko was content to be taken round places of interest, she loved her husband very much.

But some things had not changed, which was as it should be.

The door opened with a jangle of a bell and Dr Owen Harper walked in holding the hand of his youngest son. They debated at the counter for several minutes before Josh decided on a Coca-Cola and large cookie and Owen received his espresso. They sat at a table in the window so they could see out, both wanting to be the first to see the woman who meant so much to them. As they waited they talked about the ride in the boat taxi and the nature of clouds and where coffee came from and how boats floated. All the normal things that interest little boys. Josh spotted her first and jumped up to go to the door and meet her; a little boy who loved his mother. Owen also rose and reached to take his wife's shopping bags before going to the counter to get her drink; a man who loved his wife.

Jack smiled and stared at the screen of his laptop, angled to get footage of all four of his sometime friends to replay for his team when he got back. The four actually in the coffee shop with him had no recollection of the years they had been host to refugees from another reality and Rupak Moitra, who might have remembered, had taken the Retcon just as he had promised. Consequently, they could use the coffee shop at the same time and not know one another or Jack.

"What are you working on?"

Jack looked up to find a smiling Ianto picking up his empty cup and plate. "A novel. I'm stuck for an ending and need inspiration."

"What's it about?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah."

"Four people who did something pretty remarkable and saved the world and then forgot all about it. But one man knows and he has to decide whether to tell them or not. What do you think?"

"Are they happy not knowing?" Ianto idly wiped the table top.

"Very."

"Then leave it like that. I like happy endings."

And so do I.

* * *

_Anyone recognise the inspiration for this coffee shop scene? Many thanks for reading and reviewing - Jay._


End file.
